Memoirs of an Oncology Department Secretary
by hwshipper
Summary: House Wilson established relationship. The POV of Nora, Wilson's assistant, an OFC, on the House Wilson relationship. Spanning from Wilson's arrival at PPTH to early season 4, twelve years later. Now complete.
1. Chapter 1

**TITLE:** Memoirs of an Oncology Department Secretary (1/4)  
**AUTHOR:** hwshipper  
**DISCLAIMER:** All characters belong to Heel and Toe Films, Shore Z Productions and Bad Hat Harry Productions in association with Universal Media Studios.  
**SUMMARY: ****This part: **Nora sees first Wilson and then House come to work at PPTH.  
**BETA**: the sterling tridunture.

**Memoirs of an Oncology Department Secretary - chapter 1**

"Nora, I need a favor." Wilson appeared at Nora's desk, grasping a large, narrow object in a case. He looked both entreating and slightly sheepish. "Could you find somewhere to hide this for a while? Not in the hospital."

Nora looked at the object. Even in its case, the size and shape made it unmistakable: it was House's white guitar which he had been playing non-stop for the last few weeks.

She held out a hand. "No problem."

"Thanks." Wilson handed it to her. "Um, he'll probably miss it quite soon, if you could take it somewhere now..."

"Of course." Nora picked up her handbag from underneath her desk, slung the guitar over her shoulder, and headed out the door.

She'd been at Princeton Plainsboro her whole working life. She'd been assistant to various Heads of Oncology for the previous twenty years. She'd had plenty of requests stranger than this one. This one didn't even make the top ten.

* * *

She'd first met Dr. Wilson on his first day at Princeton Plainsboro. Of course, Dr. Collins had still been Head of Oncology back then. Wilson had just been employed as an attending, one of the first appointments of the new young female Dean of Medicine who was kicking ass all around the hospital. Plenty of people were just waiting for her to trip up, but Nora was a Dr. Cuddy fan. There were far too many old fools sitting on their laurels at this hospital in Nora's opinion, and a bit of new blood was no bad thing.

Dr. Collins brought Wilson to her office mid-morning. "Nora, this is our new boy, Dr. James Wilson," he boomed. "Wilson, this is Nora, our departmental secretary and my assistant. You'll soon find out she's the one who really runs this place."

Wilson extended a hand, and Nora stood up and shook it. He had a firm handshake, which pleased her; she had a firm handshake herself. He was a lot taller than her, but then most people were, especially as she only wore flats; she'd never gotten on well with heels. She guessed he was over six feet, nearly a foot taller than she was. She was well-proportioned for her size though, so people didn't tend to think of her as small.

"Very pleased to meet you," Wilson said, and sounded sincere. He looked right at her, too. He had large brown eyes, darker than Nora's own hazel eyes.

"I know you've probably had enough of hospital paperwork already, but Nora's got a department form for you to fill in," Collins said to Wilson. "Name, address, vital statistics. Get that out of the way now, then I'll walk you around the wards."

Collins departed, and Wilson sat down in front of Nora's desk. Nora passed him a form. She sat back in her chair, and looked at his name badge. "Are you James Wilson or Jack Wilson? Your badge says Jack."

Wilson smiled, and started to write on the form. "James. I think the security guy couldn't read my writing on _his _form."

Nora looked down at the form. Wilson's writing really was appalling, and she'd seen hundreds of examples of terrible doctor handwriting over the years. But she also noticed he was left-handed, which she guessed didn't help. Most doctors didn't have that excuse.

"We can get the badge changed," she said, efficient administrator that she was.

"Oh, leave it for now; I'll be interested to see who else notices." Wilson's eyes danced briefly backwards towards the door in amusement, and Nora thought that Dr. Collins obviously hadn't noticed. She hoped Wilson hadn't smelt whiskey on Dr. Collins's breath. It would have been early in the day for that, even for Dr. Collins, but unfortunately not unprecedented.

"My husband's called Jack, that's probably why I noticed," she explained. And because she was proud of it, she brandished her left hand to show off her solid gold wedding band and her precious old-fashioned opal engagment ring, which had belonged to Jack's grandmother, and added, "We've been married twenty-five years this month."

"Really?" Wilson beamed at her. "Congratulations. Though it can't be true. You can't possibly be old enough to have been married twenty-five years."

She had a charmer on her hands. Nora knew she looked every bit of her forty-seven years, knew in fact she'd look much older if she didn't color her hair. She wasn't at all vain for the most part, but she'd found she'd gone grey very quickly after hitting thirty, and unable to cope with this, had dyed her hair. She was careful to make it the exact shade of nondescript brown it should have been. Now she was old enough to start to go grey gracefully, she was working towards lightening it very gradually.

But she couldn't help but smile at Dr. Wilson, who had appealing, puppy-dog eyes and hair that flopped down over his forehead ever so slightly. "Now now, Dr. Wilson, flattery will get you everywhere. Jack and I were childhood sweethearts; we got married on my twenty-second birthday." She glanced down at the form; he'd just written _single_ in the Marital Status box. "You're not married yourself?"

"You can read my writing! And upside down!" Wilson exclaimed, and Nora almost laughed. He looked a little embarrassed as he went on, "I'm afraid you put me to shame with your twenty-five years. I'm not married, and I've got two divorces behind me."

Nora raised her eyebrows. She wouldn't normally have commented on this sort of thing, as it wasn't her business. However the tenor of their conversation so far encouraged her to reply in kind. "Now surely _you_ can't be old enough to have got divorced twice."

"'Fraid so," he said lightly. "Guess I haven't met the right girl yet."

She looked down again at the form; he'd written _31_ in the Age box. "Plenty of time for that."

She supposed this lack of a wife meant that she couldn't blame anyone but himself for the hideous choice of tie he was wearing - a dull blue with broad red stripes. Not that she was particularly fashion conscious herself, but she picked out all Jack's ties, and she knew they were in better taste than the one Wilson was wearing.

"And have you worked here for twenty-five years too?" he asked, scribbling away.

"Longer," she said, and because she was proud of this too, she went on, "Twenty-eight years next April."

"Wow. I guess I know who to come to with any Princeton Plainsboro queries." Wilson signed the bottom of the form with a flourish, and handed it back to her. She glanced down it, pausing at the career history; she had a high-flyer here too. Undergrad at McGill, med school at Columbia, residency at Mass Gen, two prestigious fellowships at Penn. She wondered how he'd time to get married twice. Or perhaps it was the career progression that had done for the marriages.

"Thank-you, Dr. Wilson," she said formally. "Dr. Collins will be in his office, through there."

Wilson stood up to go. "Very nice meeting you, Nora." He smiled again, and was gone.

* * *

Nora didn't have much to do with Dr. Wilson at first. She saw him around the department and he was always nice to her. He was obviously smart and witty. He got good patient reviews, seemed to get on well with all his colleagues, and generally settled down to be an asset to the department. And since she cared a great deal about the department, she was pleased.

One day she encountered someone who turned out to be a friend of Dr. Wilson's. She found a tall lanky man with a stubbled chin prowling around the Oncology corridors, peering through glass-paned doors. "Can I help you?" she asked.

"I'm looking for Dr. James Wilson," the man said, standing on his toes to scan the corridor. "This is Oncology, right? He must have an office 'round here somewhere. Unless he's been fired in the last week or so."

Nora was amused. "Dr. Wilson's office is the other way as you come out the elevator." The man turned to look at her, and she noticed he had very bright blue eyes. She pointed to show where she meant.

"Hah. Thanks." The man started to walk off down the corridor, and at that moment Wilson appeared in the corridor, coming out of a ward. "Wilson!" the man barked.

"Hey, House." Wilson stopped and waited for House to reach him. "Come to visit my humble abode?"

They started to walk down the corridor towards Wilson's office. Nora was going in the same direction, so followed a few paces behind. She was struck by how closely Wilson and House walked together; they had fallen automatically into step and matched each other stride for stride.

"Why isn't your office with the rest of the Oncology department?" House demanded.

"New boy gets whatever office is empty," Wilson replied laconically. "Actually, it's kinda nice to be tucked out of the way a bit. And I get a balcony."

"Cool," said House.

Nora arrived at the elevator at that point, and so didn't see them arrive at Wilson's office. She had cause to go there later in the afternoon, though, with some mail. She found Wilson working at his desk while House was lounging on the couch. Neither House nor Wilson acted as if there was anything odd about this.

* * *

Nora soon discovered that Wilson's friend was also a doctor, Dr. Gregory House, though he wasn't a doctor at Princeton Plainsboro at all, but at Princeton Hospital on the other side of town. He had looked familiar, though, so Nora made some inquiries and discovered from colleagues in other departments that House already had a habit of visiting Princeton Plainsboro. House's girlfriend was a lawyer who did consultancy work both for Princeton Plainsboro and Princeton Hospital.

Once Nora heard that, she remembered a lawsuit a year ago in Oncology, where Stacy had helped out. Nora hadn't been involved much in that, but she did recall Stacy spending some time with Dr. Collins, and House hanging around waiting for her one day. He was a memorable sort of guy, House. Of course Nora had never seen him working as a doctor, but she had a hard time imagining him in a white coat helping patients.

She caught a small glimpse into House and Wilson's friendship one day, maybe six months after Wilson had started work at Princeton Plainsboro. Nora had known Jack would be working late that evening, fulfilling a rush order at the print factory where he worked, so she stayed late herself, catching up on paperwork, and went to the hospital cafeteria to get a bite of dinner before going home. She was sitting at a table drinking coffee afterwards and reading a paperback, when Wilson walked past, saying, "Hi Nora."

She nodded at him and smiled, but didn't take her nose out of her book, not wanting to be interrupted. Wilson was heading past her anyway, carrying a plate of french fries, and then she spotted House sitting a few tables away. Wilson sat down opposite him, his back towards Nora. She wasn't trying to listen, but she could hear them speak quite clearly anyway.

"Bad news," House said to Wilson, and grabbed a handful of the fries. "Stacy's been commandeered by Cuddy for a case. She can't come to the movie tonight."

"Oh. Sorry." Wilson tried to grab some of the fries back. "We could still go?"

"That's what Stacy said. But I know she really wants to see this one, so perhaps we could all go on Saturday instead." House plucked a fry right out of Wilson's fingers and stuck it in his mouth.

"Sure." Wilson looked down at his fast emptying plate, and asked rather ruefully, "Want to go get a drink instead?"

"Sure," said House, and at that moment Cuddy walked past, carrying a can of soda she had obviously just bought. She stopped by their table.

"Dr. House, what a surprise," she said dryly. "Distracting my doctors from their work again, I see?" Wilson looked up at her, alarmed, and Cuddy apparently took pity on him as she added, "Don't worry, Dr. Wilson, I know you're off duty."

"Ah, it's the evil queen who's lured Stacy away from the cinema with a promise of filthy lucre," House growled.

"Stacy is saving this hospital's collective ass, not for the first time," Cuddy retorted.

"Actually, maybe you lured her with a promise of your breasts," House said, his eyes glued to Cuddy's cleavage, which was right in his sight line. Cuddy was wearing a really quite low cut black top with a lace trim. Some people in the hospital said Cuddy dressed like a slut, but Nora always argued that Dr. Cuddy just knew how to use her femininity to get what she wanted. Certainly Nora had noticed that Dr. Collins was helpless to do anything but nod and agree when he was faced with Cuddy's breasts. Nora was, however, a little surprised by House's comment, which implied a greater familiarity than she had previously realized. Hospital scuttlebutt was that House and Cuddy knew each other from way back, although the grapevine was vague as to when and where. Looked like that might have been true.

"Have a fun evening, little boys," Cuddy said, completely ignoring House's comment, and walked on by, out of the cafeteria. House and Wilson both followed her departing figure with their eyes, then turned back to look at each other.

"How can we make it a fun evening?" House said, and stuck the last fry in his mouth.

Wilson dropped his voice and said something Nora couldn't hear. She saw House's reaction, though; a small, slow smile spread across his face. She didn't know House at all, but even so, she was surprised at the intensity of that smile, which was also playful and affectionate. House then laughed, and stood up, and turned to leave.

Wilson stood up too, and turned slightly to grab his jacket off the back of his chair, so Nora saw his face full-on too, just for a few seconds. Wilson also had a grin on his face, and again Nora was startled, because she knew Wilson's smiles much better than House's, and this was animated, intense, vibrant_—_like no smile of his she'd ever seen before.

* * *

"I'm afraid it's cancer," their family doctor said to Jack.

And that was how Nora eventually got to know Wilson much better, for all the wrong reasons. Jack had been ill, and the grim diagnosis came back: lung cancer. People said to her how ironic it was, Jack getting cancer and her working in an oncology department and all. Nora hated this reaction, and invariably retorted that it was all that could be expected, Jack having smoked every day of his life since he was fourteen.

They considered having him treated somewhere other than Princeton Plainsboro, but actually it made no sense not to, financially and otherwise. Nora could see him there any time she wanted. She could make sure he got the best treatment, as far as possible.

She was relieved, however, when Dr. Collins decided it wouldn't be a good idea for him, the department head, to personally treat Jack, the departmental secretary's husband. He delegated it down to his newest doctor instead. This was Wilson, who had by now been working there about a year.

Nora would have been just as happy with several other doctors in Oncology, some of whom she had known for a long time, but she was also pleased to have Wilson, who was clearly bright and still new enough to be keen to impress. She prided herself on her professionalism, though, so was a little worried about what it would be like having one of her doctors treating her husband. It helped that she was naturally stoic, and so was Jack; _got cancer, life's a bitch, get used to it._ They expressed doubts and hopes and fears to each other, but she managed to keep her cool around Wilson and ask measured, intelligent questions. She wasn't a doctor or a nurse, but she hadn't worked in Oncology as long as she had without gaining some knowledge of the subject.

The closest she came to breaking down was after their first consultation, when she'd left Jack with nurses for a few moments while some tests were carried out, and stepped out of the room with Wilson, and said, "Thank you, Dr. Wilson," and her voice shook ever so slightly.

Wilson looked at her, and said just the sort of thing she needed to hear. "We caught it early. Actually, you caught it early. Most people wouldn't spot symptoms like that until they were much more advanced."

She straightened her back a little. "I guess I've seen enough people coming in and out of here to make a spot when I have to."

"It was a good call," he said gently.

As time went by, Nora realized that she had fallen on her feet. Wilson was good. Good at talking to Jack and herself, soft-voiced, never patronizing, explaining just as much as they wanted explained, giving options and guidance. Good at getting them to the front of queues for treatments or medicine or equipment, never making them wait or doubt. His knowledge was up-to-date, and he really knew his stuff. Nora soon came to trust him implicitly.

* * *

Jack responded well to initial treatment, and was soon in remission. Nora was happy. She knew they weren't out of the woods, probably never would be out of the woods, but things were as good for now as she'd hoped they would be.

It was maybe a year and a half after Wilson had started at the hospital that House came to work at Princeton Plainsboro too. He'd been fired from Princeton Hospital; there was no secret about that. Nora arranged to have lunch with one of the administrators she knew over there, and got the gossip. He'd screwed up, a patient had died, and it wasn't his first such mistake.

"He's a risk taker," said her friend. "He's been skating on thin ice for ages, and they've just been waiting for him to make another slip-up. Apparently he's been fired before_—_someone said this was the fourth time."

In return, Nora shared her knowledge of how he'd come to Princeton Plainsboro. Cuddy had hired him, and again there was no secret about it, Cuddy had driven a hard bargain. House wasn't in a position to negotiate. Stacy's successful legal career (really taking off, people said) meant he had a powerful incentive to stay in Princeton; didn't have to move from their apartment where they were both very settled, didn't have to go through the aggravation of interviews elsewhere where his reputation would of course have preceded him. Nora heard from Debbie in Accounting that Cuddy had forced him to take a fifty percent pay cut.

Cuddy put House in Princeton Plainsboro's Infectious Diseases department, and within a month there was a near revolt as the other doctors resented Cuddy putting a cuckoo in their nest, as they saw it.

Nora lunched one day with the Infectious Diseases departmental secretary to hear how things were going.

"The man's a menace," her counterpart said flatly. "Doesn't pull his weight. He's good, when he works_—_but often he just isn't working. Everyone thinks he's sleeping with Dr. Cuddy and that's the only reason he's here."

Nora really didn't buy that. She pointed out how close House and Stacy were.

"Used to have a thing with Cuddy, then," the other secretary said peevishly. "There's some sort of history there, didn't you know? I reckon she's still got a torch for him."

Things did eventually settle down. Nora suspected that Wilson and Stacy between them launched a concerted effort to get House to accept his new position and make the most of it. And there was no denying that House at his best was a Good Thing for the hospital. Once he knuckled down, he made a couple of calls on some rare infectious diseases that made the national press, and led to a well-received conference paper and a couple of seminal articles in medical journals. His departmental colleagues continued to grumble at his attitude and working methods, but learned to give him space to do his own thing.

* * *

House was well-established at Princeton Plainsboro when Nora saw something, well, heard something, actually, one evening, that stayed with her for a very long time.

It was very late_—_early hours of the morning, in fact_—_but she was only just going home. Jack was in the hospital for tests, and one advantage of being on staff was that she didn't have to comply with normal visiting hours. It had been a long week though, and she was exhausted. In fact she'd bumped into Wilson a couple of hours before, and he'd been shocked at how tired she'd looked, and told her to go straight home that minute and get some rest. She had said she would, but she hadn't, not straight away. She'd been distracted, answered a few more emails that seemed urgent, and went and spent some more time with Jack, until she realized she was close to collapse with tiredness.

She was walking through the underground parking garage and fumbling for keys when she pulled a handful of loose change out of her purse instead. Coins rolled on the ground and vanished into the darkness; the garage wasn't well-lit and several coins had gone into a completely dark corner. She knelt down in the corner, groping for the coins, and then heard the sound of voices distantly, from the other side of the car park. She recognized Wilson's voice.

Damn, she didn't want him to see her, didn't want him to know that she hadn't gone home earlier like he'd told her to. She stayed very still, knowing she couldn't be seen.

He was talking to House; she saw them both, briefly illuminated as they walked under a fluorescent light, walking close together. They always walked close together. This part of the underground car park was absolutely deserted, no people and few cars. She could see Wilson's Volvo nearby, and House's motorcycle next to it, and she was relieved they wouldn't have to walk past her to get there.

House and Wilson stopped by Wilson's car, standing close together. Nora thought she could see House touching Wilson's arm, but she could have been mistaken. Suddenly, for no reason Nora could see, Wilson stepped sideways and backwards out of the light, into a dark corner. House hesitated for a second, then stepped after him. Nora squinted, but it was pitch black just there and she couldn't make them out at all.

They were only about twenty feet away though, and she could hear some murmurs, then House let out a small sigh, and then she heard Wilson say quite distinctly, "Stacy expecting you back?"

House replied in a low growl, "Yeah. Is that going to make any_—_Jesus fucking Christ, Wilson."

Nora knew it was none of her business but she couldn't help straining the hell out of her eyes trying to see what was happening. It was no good, it was just too dark. She resolved to send a memo to Cuddy about inadequate lighting in the garage.

"Wilson,_ fuck_, Jesus," House gasped, and let out a short, strangled moan; and then there was a short silence.

Then very softly, so soft Nora could hardly make it out, Wilson's voice: "My turn."

"You'll have to give me a minute." House's voice came out between pants.

There was another short silence, then Nora heard a tiny clinking sound, like a belt buckle. She thought that Wilson had been wearing a belt, but not House. Then Wilson's voice, suddenly tense: "_God,_ House."

"That's me," House muttered, his voice echoing against the concrete.

Wilson drew in a sharp intake of breath, and there wasn't any more talking for the next minute or so, no sound at all from House and just stifled gasps and exclamations from Wilson, and then silence again.

Then the belt buckle clink, and suddenly there was picture to go with the sound, as Wilson stepped out of the dark corner back under the light again. He looked as cool as a cucumber, pretty much the same as he had done a few minutes before. His expression was nonchalant as he glanced swiftly around the garage, making sure nobody was around. House appeared a minute later, and he did look different; his hair was tousled, his T-shirt rumpled, and he was wiping his mouth with a handkerchief. Nora thought she could also see oil stains on the knees of his jeans.

"Wilson, you bastard, I can't go home like this," House rasped, as Wilson unlocked his car door.

Wilson looked at him, and said, matter-of-fact, "Phone Stacy and tell her you're crashing on my couch tonight. Leave the bike."

House hesitated for a second, then nodded, and got in the passenger side door. Wilson started the engine and drove away.

Nora stood up, relieved, her legs aching from several minutes kneeling on the concrete floor. She wondered if House was feeling the same. Of course he hadn't been kneeling as long as she just had.

* * *

That night Nora thought long and hard about what she'd seen (well, heard) trying to make sense of it all. She kept thinking about Wilson's two divorces. She knew nothing about the circumstances_—_it wasn't her business_—_but she felt she had some inkling as to a reason for them now. She also kept thinking about House and Stacy. She'd seen enough of House and Stacy together to know they were a good couple, a great couple. She'd swear to anyone she knew that they were in love. And yet, and yet... there was something about House and Wilson. Nora knew she had the benefit of hindsight, but she really thought she'd seen something there now from the start. She wasn't entirely sure what.

Next day Nora was in her office when Wilson dropped by with some files. "Hey Nora, how are you?" he asked, putting the files down on her desk.

"I'm fine, thank you, Dr. Wilson," Nora said, looking at Wilson, trying not to make it look like she was staring, trying to see any trace, any hint at all of the Wilson she had seen_—_well, heard_—_last night. She couldn't see a thing. Nothing was different. It was just Wilson, just like he'd been yesterday, just like he'd be tomorrow.

He looked at her in concern, then sat down in front of her desk. "Are you sure? You look a little pale."

"No I'm fine, just didn't sleep much last night," Nora said truthfully.

Wilson still looked concerned. "You're not worrying about Jack, are you? Because he's getting on so well, as well as we could hope for. Test results are really good. You know that, don't you?"

"Yes, I know that." _Thanks to you_, Nora added silently.

"Well, OK then." Wilson nodded, and smiled encouragingly at her. It was a nice smile, a genuine smile, and it made Nora remember those intense smiles she'd seen House and Wilson exchange over the cafeteria table that one time. And suddenly she understood, not that she could have explained anything rationally, but she saw that House made Wilson feel funny, and good, and Wilson made House feel funny, and good. And that would be the case no matter what else was going on in each of their lives.

"I'll have that funding bid typed up for you this afternoon," she said to Wilson, remembering to be the consummate professional.

He beamed back at her, and said, "I'm so glad you can read my writing."

Nora watched him go. Later she thought it was perhaps strange that it was at this particular moment that she decided Dr. Wilson could do no wrong, and she became the fiercest, most staunch supporter at Princeton Plainsboro that Wilson could have.

She remembered this very clearly a couple of years later, when that terrible thing happened with House's leg.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**TITLE:** Memoirs of an Oncology Department Secretary (2/4)  
**AUTHOR:** hwshipper  
**DISCLAIMER: **All characters belong to Heel and Toe Films, Shore Z Productions and Bad Hat Harry Productions in association with Universal Media Studios.  
**SUMMARY** **Overall:** The POV of Nora, Wilson 's assistant, an OFC, on the House/Wilson relationship, spanning from Wilson 's arrival at PPTH to early season 4, twelve years later. **This part:** Nora watches House's infarction aftermath, and Wilson becomes Head of Oncology.  
**BETA:** the sterling triedunture

**Memoirs of an Oncology Department Secretary chapter 2**

"Hey, Nora." Wilson appeared at Nora's desk with a winning smile. No guitar shaped cases this time, she was relieved to see, but he was clutching a bag.

"What can I do you for?" she asked.

"I need a box. Cardboard box, about this big." Wilson spread out his hands. "And some sort of packing paper."

Nora thought for a moment, then got up and rummaged in a cupboard. She found a box and some blue tissue paper, and handed them to him.

"Perfect," Wilson said enthusiastically, and reached into his bag. He pulled out a tangled mess of wood and wire. Nora had no idea what it was. She didn't want to ask, but Wilson caught her look and said, "It's the whammy bar. From House's guitar."

"Whammy bar?" Nora had never heard of such a thing, but then she didn't know anything about guitars.

"You didn't notice I'd taken it off the guitar?" Wilson asked.

"I never even opened the case," Nora said, a trifle piously. Wilson grinned. He stuck the whammy bar in the box and put some tissue on top of it. Nora watched him indulgently. She'd seen House and Wilson play many pranks on each other over the years. She recognized this as the _horse's head in a bed_ moment.

"Oh, by the way Dr. Wilson," she said, picking up a piece of paper from her desk. "I just got the rosters for next week, and I thought you'd be interested to know that Nurse Brad has switched to the night shift."

Wilson's eyes widened. "Really? I am interested, thank you for telling me." He shut the box and shot her an admiring look which she read as _how did you know?_

She smiled gently back. It was her job to know. It had always been part of her job to know whatever needed to be known, to keep the department functioning properly.

* * *

Wilson had been working at Princeton-Plainsboro for a bit more than three years the day he came into Nora's office and perched on the edge of her desk. She looked at him questioningly. 

"I have news. Cuddy's sending me to Stanford for six months," he said.

"The secondment?" Nora had been dealing with correspondence back and forth about this for a while. A doctor at Stanford was very keen to come and do a research project with Brown, and had proposed a swap so a doctor from Princeton Plainsboro could come work at Stanford in his place. Dr. Collins had been reluctant, but Cuddy had been enthusiastic; skills swaps, building relationships with other institutions, that was all very much the sort of ethos she wanted to encourage at her hospital.

"That's right." Wilson grinned wryly. "I guess Collins thought he could spare me the best out of everyone for six months."

"Actually I think Cuddy was keen to give one of the younger doctors an opportunity," Nora corrected. "It'll be good résumé points, you know."

Wilson nodded. "True."

Nora would have stopped here if she had been talking to any other of her doctors, but with Wilson she added, "Especially with Dr. Collins retiring in a few years time."

"Brown's job will be up for grabs, you mean?" Wilson said lightly. Brown was the most senior doctor in Oncology after Collins. It was widely assumed he would naturally succeed to the top job.

Nora shook her head and lowered her voice. "Not necessarily. Brown may not go for it."

Wilson's eyebrows shot up. "You're kidding."

"Well, he might," Nora said hastily. "But he might not. Brown likes his research, you know. He's said before he wouldn't want all the administration and office politics that goes with being department head. He's already on Management Board and he hates that. He might well decide to take a pass."

"Really," Wilson said slowly, and Nora could see him thinking this through, thinking of the other doctors below Brown who might also fancy their chances at getting Collins' job. Wilson was ambitious, she knew that. Not in an overt, aggressive way, but he worked hard, took credit where it was due, and was always the first to volunteer when it came to something like sitting on yet another committee.

"Just some food for thought," she said lightly.

"Thank you, Nora, I appreciate that," Wilson said, his voice heartfelt. He hopped off her desk.

"Just you make sure you come back from Stanford," Nora said, both joking and serious.

Wilson smiled. "Of course I will. You don't think House would let me get away that easily, do you?"

She smiled back and he left. He was back a minute later though, to add, "And if anything happens with Jack while I'm away, complications, anything at all, you call me, OK?"

"Thank you, Dr. Wilson," she said, her tone heartfelt.

* * *

The Stanford secondment created a lot of admin and kept Nora very busy for a while. Once it had started though, things quietened down. Nora missed seeing Wilson around, but the Stanford doctor was very pleasant. Jack was stable and that was a relief too. Nora wouldn't want to contact Wilson while he was away unless it seemed absolutely necessary. A matter of life and death, perhaps. 

In the end, someone did fall sick while Wilson was away. But it wasn't Jack.

House had been ill with his leg for more than three days before Nora heard about it. That was when the news suddenly flared round the hospital grapevine; House had something wrong with his leg, nobody had figured it out, it had got a lot worse and Dr. Cuddy had just pulled rank and taken over his case personally. And it was bad. A blood clot. Muscle death. Nora had little idea about what this really meant in medical terms, but people spoke about it in hushed voices. News continued to filter through. House had gone in for surgery. He was out of surgery. It still looked bad.

Nora didn't know House, except insofar as he occasionally hung around Oncology looking for Wilson, or waiting for Wilson, and Wilson chatted about House in passing to her occasionally. She couldn't recall actually speaking to House since she'd given him directions to Wilson's office in the corridor, the first day she'd met him. But she had the same human curiosity as everyone else, amplified by her high regard for Wilson.

She went to House's hospital room. The blinds were drawn, but the door was open as a nurse was in doing a procedure. Nora peered inside the door. House was lying in bed, his face gray and sweating. He kept moving his head from side to side as if tortured, trying to release some sort of pressure.

Troubled, Nora went in search of information and found a gaggle of nurses down in the nurse's locker room who were about to go on duty on House's floor. She followed them upstairs, engaging in conversation.

"He is the worst patient ever," one of them told her.

"Doctors always make the worst patients," someone else said.

"He's the worst kind of doctor then," the first nurse retorted. "Orders us around, always knows best, never even polite about it."

"So what's the situation now?" Nora asked.

"He had a bypass. It's left him in chronic pain, and earlier today he went into cardiac arrest," a third nurse explained. "He was dead for a minute before they brought him back."

Nora was shocked. She hadn't heard that. "So... now what?"

"I hear he's asked to go into a coma to try and ride it out," a fourth nurse said. She had a sharp nose, brown hair and was determined-looking; Nora didn't recognize her, and thought she must be new. Her name badge read _Nurse Previn_. "But there's something strange going on. Cuddy and Stacy have been all in a huddle in Cuddy's office, I saw them earlier." Nurse Previn saw she had every one's attention, and went on dramatically, "I think they're going to wait 'til he's in a coma, and then do what they wanted to all along—amputate."

There were cries of "Brenda, no!" from some of the others who knew House was dead set against this. Two of the nurses had seen House go into the operating room before, and reported he had written _Not that leg either_ on his bad leg. There was a consensus that Cuddy and Stacy wouldn't dare.

"Well, there's something going on," Nurse Brenda Previn said darkly.

"Does anyone know if they've told Dr. Wilson?" Nora asked, a little awkwardly. She didn't have to explain her question. House and Wilson's friendship was well known across the hospital.

"Definitely not," one of the nurses piped up and Nora looked at her sharply. The nurse hastened to explain. "I was changing the IV when Dr. Cuddy was in there, after he came back from the crash, and Cuddy asked him, _'Now will you let me call Wilson?'_ And House said something like, _'Not this again, I've been through this with Stacy. There's no point, he'll just worry and come running back, and it's pointless, it's not like he can do anything.' _Then they started talking about this coma thing."

Nora nodded, thanked the nurses, and walked away. It was none of her business, really, after all.

Later in the day she found her feet taking her back to House's room to find out if anything else had happened. She found Brenda in the corridor outside House's room, and Brenda was only too keen to fill her in.

"Well, they didn't amputate," Brenda said, sounding a little disappointed. Nora frowned at her, disapproving. "But they have done more surgery, and I bet he didn't know about that before they put him under. They've done an abridement—removed all the dead tissue. There was a lot of it. I had to dress his leg just now and God, it's just like a giant gaping hole where his thigh used to be." Nora gaped, and Brenda nodded. She lowered her voice and added, "Just my opinion, but with a leg like that, I wouldn't be surprised if House can't walk again."

Nora was truly shocked. Brenda moved on, and Nora went and stood outside House's room. The blinds were drawn again, but this time not fully. She could see in between the slats by standing at the right angle. House was unconscious; still in the coma, Nora assumed. He looked ghostly pale, and somehow small and helpless. This was so completely the opposite of what House was like, that Nora had a hard time believing it was actually House still alive under that deathly pallor. She remembered House running eight miles in to work once. She knew that he played sports: golf, lacrosse. The thought of him perhaps not being able to walk again was just unbelievable.

She stood there for a little while, and found herself chewing on her lip. Wilson didn't know this had happened to House. So what, it was none of her business. House didn't want him to know, and it was his prerogative.

She was unhappy nevertheless. She knew Wilson would want to know.

Wilson was a professional colleague, not a friend. He was a doctor and she was an administrator. Her husband was his patient. It was just _not her place_ to tell him, especially not when House's own girlfriend—Wilson's friend, too—and the Dean of Medicine weren't telling him.

Nora went back to her office. She sat at her desk, shut her eyes and thought about House and Wilson. She remembered what she liked to think of as their _indiscretion in the car park_. She remembered their smiles across the cafeteria table. She recalled a thousand instances of their easy, shared intimacy; walking side by side, House stealing Wilson's food. She remembered how House had changed the screen saver on Wilson's computer the day he'd gone away to a scrolling message which read _Stanford sucks_. (Fortunately the Stanford doctor who had taken over Wilson's computer the following day had seen the funny side).

She picked up the phone and dialed. Wilson picked up almost immediately. "Hello?"

"Dr. Wilson, it's Nora." Nora suddenly found herself seized by a momentary panic that the nurses had understood wrong and she was about to make a fool of herself. Surely either Stacy or Cuddy would have called Wilson.

"Nora?" Wilson's voice was immediately concerned. "Is Jack OK?"

"Jack's fine," Nora hastened to say. "I'm—I'm calling about Dr. House."

She heard a long sigh down the line. "Break it to me, what's he done?"

Nora would have laughed if she hadn't been so worried.

"He hasn't done anything. He's—he's sick, Dr. Wilson." And Nora spilled her guts, becoming rapidly aware as she spoke how ignorant she was about the medical details. She did her best. She dredged up all the words that the nurses had used. _Aneurysm. Infarction_. She kept to the facts and skipped Brenda's speculation that Cuddy and Stacy had done something behind House's back—she wasn't sure she believed this herself, and anyway, it wasn't important right now. But she did repeat Brenda's opinion that House might not walk again.

Wilson didn't interrupt once, though she heard several sharp intakes of breath while she was talking. Eventually she finished, and there was a moment's silence before Wilson spoke.

"Nora, did you say Cuddy's in charge of his case?" There was a slight shake to his voice.

"Yes," Nora confirmed.

"OK. I'm going to call her right now and find out how he is. Um—is Stacy with House?"

"She's around, I don't know where she is right now." Nora knew what Wilson meant. "She wanted to call you, the nurses said, so did Dr. Cuddy. House didn't want them to."

"Of _course_ he wouldn't, the stubborn bastard!" Wilson's voice rose to a frustrated shout. "For Christ's sake, the idea that I might actually want to know, might actually care!" He took a deep breath. "Nora, I'm really glad you called. I won't tell House it was you, in case he tries to eats you or something." Nora recognized that Wilson was trying to speak lightly, and she knew the best thing she could do now was get the hell off the phone line.

* * *

Wilson was back at Princeton Plainsboro the following day, which, considering the three thousand miles he'd had to travel, was remarkably quick. Once Nora heard he was back, she went down to House's room and saw Wilson sitting next to House's bed, not touching him, just sitting close, watching. House was asleep. She lingered awhile. House barely moved. Wilson didn't move at all. 

After that, Nora kept her head down and stayed out of the way. She didn't try and see House again, and only saw Wilson when he came on fleeting visits to Oncology, when he was stressed and not inclined to linger and talk, not that she dared ask him questions anyway.

Cuddy entered into discussions with Stanford; Dr. Collins was copied in on it all, so Nora saw it too. She learned that Cuddy paid off Stanford to release Wilson for the last three months he was supposed to be there, which must have cost a lot of money (Debbie from Accounting later confirmed that for her). As Princeton Plainsboro still had the Stanford doctor, Wilson was spared coming back to work full-time for those three months, though he did in fact work a hefty part-time load, taking back most of his regular patients including Jack, but not taking on new ones. As the Stanford doctor was still occupying his office, Wilson led a rather peripatetic existence, working with laptops in conference rooms or in whatever office happened to be free, between running off to check on House. He looked permanently exhausted.

Nora took to meeting Nurse Brenda Previn periodically to get medical news about House. Brenda avidly related details of House's fury with Stacy and Cuddy, especially Stacy, and the subsequent deteriorating relationship between House and Stacy. House was eventually released from hospital to go home with Stacy, but Nora came to the hospital lobby to watch them depart, and the tension was obvious.

Nora saw nothing of House in the months of rehabilitation that followed, except occasional sightings in corridors on his way to and from physical therapy appointments; first in a wheelchair, later with crutches, and then hobbling along awkwardly with a cane. Initially he was usually accompanied by Stacy, sometimes by Wilson; and then later just with Wilson. By now the Stanford secondment had ended and Wilson was back in his office and back working full-time, almost.

Nora mentioned to Wilson one day as casually as possible that she hadn't seen Stacy around the hospital recently.

Wilson sighed. "Stacy's not working here any more, Nora. She got another job with a law firm out in Short Hills. She and House, uh, split up."

Nora wasn't surprised, but she was sorry, very sorry. For House and Stacy, who had seemed so much in love; and for Wilson, who was looking more like a psychological human punching bag than ever.

One day Nora was walking down the Oncology corridor when she saw House and Wilson up ahead, both looking as if they'd just been put through a wringer. House was leaning on his cane with both hands and looked as if sheer force of will was the only thing keeping him upright. Wilson looked, if possible, even more haggard than House did. Nora recalled that House had been in for physical therapy that afternoon, Wilson had presumably accompanied him.

"I'm just going to get a file from my office," Wilson said to House, and headed off down the corridor towards his office.

House stood by the elevator, waiting for Wilson. Nora arrived next to him and punched the down button. House looked at her. His blue eyes were shattered glass, fragmented with exhaustion and pain. Nora wondered how on earth House could bear it. She also wondered how Wilson could bear looking at those eyes, day after day.

Then, most unexpectedly, House spoke to her. "You're Nora, aren't you? Oncology secretary?"

Nora was instantly apprehensive. "That's right."

House looked at her speculatively for a few seconds, then said, "You called Wilson back from Stanford."

"He told you?" Nora asked, surprised and a little worried.

"No. You just did. But I knew it wasn't Cuddy or Stacy." House paused. "He's your husband's doctor, isn't he?"

This wasn't a secret, it was well known in Oncology, but it also wasn't something well known outside the department. Neither was it something Wilson would have gossiped to House about; Wilson was big on patient confidentiality. Nora wondered if House had been checking her out.

"Yes, he is," she said stoutly. She would not be intimidated by House, bum leg or no bum leg. The elevator arrived and she stepped inside. House remained where he was, waiting for Wilson.

As the doors closed between them, House said, even more unexpectedly, "You did the right thing."

Nora thought about this later, and found she was relieved to know this.

* * *

About a year after House's infarction, Nora was taking some mail to Wilson's office and was surprised to see the rooms next door to his were being completely gutted and renovated. 

"What's happening next door?" she asked Wilson.

"Ah, the Department of Diagnostics is moving in," Wilson said solemnly.

Nora had never heard of such a department.

"It's new. Cuddy's created it for House," Wilson explained. "He's going to head up his own department; just a small one, three fellows and him. They're making a new office and conference room for them."

This was big news. It must be costing a small fortune; Nora wondered how Cuddy had bludgeoned this past the Management Board. Cuddy's level of guilt over the way House's infarction had been handled must be immense.

Also it was clearly no accident that the new department was being placed right next door to Wilson. "You'll be sharing your balcony with him," Nora observed, smiling.

"Yup, I'm really looking forward to that," Wilson said wryly.

And so House came to be installed in a big glass office just along the corridor from Oncology. Nora had cause to walk past here quite a lot, so she saw much more of House in passing than she had during his previous incarnation in Infectious Diseases on the other side of the building. The department was slow to find its feet, owing to the fact that House initially was unable to keep a member of staff for more than a few weeks before either they quit or he fired them. Cuddy refused to let House interview on his own after the second lawsuit, and Wilson ended up helping out because nobody else in the hospital was prepared to do it. Eventually House got himself a couple of staff who seemed able to put up with him, and he with them, and they started to work cases, and lo and behold, House was working again. Cuddy's gamble had paid off; House's fame spread, before long he was able to be very choosy about which referrals he took. And gradually, Nora observed the pressure started to ease on Wilson.

* * *

Jack took a turn for the worse. First he had to give up his job; even the light duties he'd been given were just too much. Then being at home was too difficult too, and he had to go into hospital for treatment. And then it became clear that the cancer was not only back, but in control, spreading fast, and there wasn't much that could be done any more. Nora spent her time traipsing back and forth between her office and Jack's bedside. Her iron self-determination kept her working, and the working gave her life validity in the face of an unbearable sense of helplessness.

In the middle of all this, Dr. Collins finally announced his retirement, and as Nora had anticipated, Brown decided not to go for the top job. This unexpected boon cued an unseemly scramble by the rest of the oncology doctors to jostle for pole position. Nora had no favorite that she would admit to in public. She could work with any of the candidates, and she knew that any of them would be only too grateful to work with her. They came to her one by one, and she gave each of them gentle encouragement and advice.

In private, Nora knew exactly who her favorite was. Unfortunately, it still wasn't a great time for Wilson. Even though it had now been two years since House's infarction, and although House had been functioning both as a diagnostician and as a department head for a year now, and getting more adept by the day at using his cane, he was still an angry man. Nora was coming to recognize that House would probably be angry for the rest of his life; at life, at his leg, at the now long departed Stacy, and at Wilson as the nearest readily available target.

"I don't think I'll apply," Wilson said to Nora, when she mentioned the job situation to him, assuming he was applying.

She was shocked. "Why not?"

"I'm not going to get it, am I? I'm too young." Wilson was now thirty-seven. "I haven't worked here long enough." He'd now been at Princeton Plainsboro for six years. "Well, not compared to some, anyway. And I just don't know if I can cope with all that interview stuff right now." He looked dead on his feet. His patient burden was particularly high at the moment. Nora felt obscurely guilty that Jack was one of the patients taking up a lot of Wilson's energy at the moment.

"You should apply." Nora carefully encouraged him.

When he didn't immediately take her advice, Nora surreptiously obtained a set of application forms and filled in as much of the factual information she was able to, from his résumé and other details she had on file. She then put the forms inside a patient file she knew that he would shortly want, and waited, apprehensive about how he might react. A couple of days later, he walked into her office with a smile and an envelope, which he dropped on her desk.

"I filled out the rest," he said. "By hand, though. I've been scribbling it in the clinic between patients, haven't had any time at my desk. I was wondering..."

"I'll type it up," Nora said immediately. The deadline for applications was five o'clock that afternoon, only two hours away. No way could the interview panel be subjected to Wilson's handwriting.

"I'm really grateful," he said quietly.

She could see that Wilson's sense of ambition was still intact under the battered exterior. In a way, Nora thought the fact he looked as if he was permanently under siege might help him; it certainly made him look older.

She ensured the forms were submitted on time, while carefully concealing her own role; she couldn't risk being accused of favoritism.

In the meantime, Jack had gone from bad to worse, and it had become clear that he only had a matters of weeks, maybe even days, to live. Nora took compassionate leave to spend all her time by his bedside, yet still found herself putting in a couple of hours a day at her desk, as she had to do something to pass some of this time. She was dimly aware that interviews were approaching and her doctors were skittish around each other.

The day Jack slipped into a coma was the day of the interviews. Nora was sitting clutching Jack's hand when a part of her brain that was stubbornly refusing to believe what was happening reminded her of this. She looked at the clock, and then turned and said to Wilson, who was there in the room, monitoring Jack and being generally comforting, "Haven't you got your interview now?"

Wilson didn't actually say _fuck the interview_, but he certainly looked as if that was what he wanted to say.

"Go," Nora insisted. "You can't do anything more here right now." Wilson hesitated and Nora felt herself become agitated. "Go! _Please!"_

Wilson retreated, though not before having a word with a nurse who then drifted in the door to stand near Nora. Nora saw him glance at his watch outside the room, then sprint off down the corridor.

He was back an hour later to look in on them. "How did it go?" Nora asked.

Wilson looked at her searchingly, and apparently decided to humor her by replying. "All right, I guess. Except I was a bit out of breath when I got there. I was a few minutes late."

"I hope you told them why," Nora said. Wilson shrugged, and she knew he hadn't.

Jack was unchanged and Wilson left a short while later.

A couple of hours later, Cuddy's assistant came by with a message. Dr. Cuddy knew about Jack, and was terribly sorry to bother Nora, but was there any chance Nora could come by for a few minutes?

Glad to take a break, and wondering what this was about, Nora went down to Dr. Cuddy's office. Inside she found Cuddy with two other senior doctors from the Management Board who she knew by name and reputation only. She realized suddenly that this was the interview panel.

"Nora, thank you for coming to see us, I'm so sorry to take you away from Jack right now," Cuddy said, formally but with real warmth and regret. "This will only take a few minutes. You know we're interviewing for Dr. Collins' replacement?" Nora nodded. Cuddy went on, "You'll be working with the successful candidate, of course, and he or she will be the fourth Head of Oncology you'll have worked under. You're the longest serving member of staff at this hospital. The decision rests with this panel, of course, but I also value your opinion, Nora. Would you mind giving us your impression of each of the candidates? Confidentially, of course, and entirely off-the-record."

Nora had never been asked to do anything like this before. Previous Deans of Medicine would not have thought of such a thing. Nora sat, astonished, for a moment, gathering her thoughts. Then she gave short, polite, accurate assessments of each of the candidates other than Wilson, making it clear she'd be happy to work with any of them. The panel listened attentively.

"And Dr. Wilson?" Cuddy said. Her voice was absolutely neutral.

Nora looked Cuddy straight in the eye, and realized Cuddy had her own favorite and was doing her damnedest to make sure he got the job.

"I would be very happy to work for Dr. Wilson," Nora said, and was pleased to hear how steady and measured her voice was. "You'll know of course that my husband has cancer and Dr. Wilson is his primary doctor. This has given me the opportunity to see Dr. Wilson from both sides, as a colleague and as a patient. I have the highest opinion of Dr. Wilson in both capacities. He cares passionately for his patients; no other doctor cares more. He will go to any lengths to help them. He was late for his interview with you today because he was reluctant to leave Jack when Jack... took a turn for the worse earlier. I believe Dr. Wilson to be an extremely competent medical professional, although others are better placed than me to judge that. He is considerate and kind to staff, he is very hard-working."

Nora paused, wondering if she'd said too much. But she had to tackle the House-thing, that was bound to be what those stuffed shirts behind the desk were worried about. "Dr. Wilson is also very loyal to his friends. I have the greatest admiration for the way he's helped Dr. House over the last two years. He's shown remarkable patience and resilience. If it hadn't been for Dr. Wilson, Dr. House would not be working today and being the asset to this hospital that he is. And Dr. Wilson has managed to help while not letting it affect the quality of his own work in the slightest."

"Thank you, Nora." Cuddy's voice was kind, and Nora hoped Cuddy had what she wanted. "I'm sure you'll be wanting to get back to Jack now. I hope you'll be discreet about this conversation."

"Of course," Nora said, and left, thoughts racing through her head, ideas as to other things she could have said, other points she could have made, too late.

She arrived back in Jack's room to find Wilson was back, standing at the foot of Jack's bed, reading print-outs. His face was somber.

Nora immediately forgot what had just happened in Cuddy's office.

"How is he?" she asked, and dreaded the answer she knew was coming.

Wilson motioned for her to sit down. She did so. Wilson sat down beside her.

"Nora, he's not responding. He's dying, and there's nothing more we can do." Wilson's voice was quiet.

Nora stared at him, and although she had known what he had been going to say, could almost have predicted the words, somehow they came as the most enormous shock. She looked into Wilson's eyes, searching for something, anything to contradict what he was saying, give her hope, but they gave the same message. And Nora, who hadn't cried once in front of Wilson before, found tears brimming out of her eyes and rolling down her cheeks, as the message finally hit home. Jack was _dying_. This was it.

Wilson reached out and touched her lightly on the arm. She grasped his hand, seeking comfort, seeking warmth, life. Then she dropped it, and turned to Jack, and clutched his hand; warm, but still, and pale.

Wilson said, so quietly she could hardly hear, "I can up his morphine."

Nora knew what he meant. Not every doctor would have offered this. Somehow she wasn't surprised that Wilson had, though she'd never thought about it before.

"Yes. Please. Thank you," she whispered.

Wilson got up, and flipped the blinds shut over the glass panel in the wall. He then moved over to the medical equipment that was hooked up to Jack, and Nora looked away, not wanting to see what he was doing. She clutched at Jack's arm and started talking to him, heedless now of Wilson's presence; it was meaningless babble she knew, but maybe some of it was getting through, maybe Jack could hear her in there somewhere, she'd said _I love you_ so many times over the years yet somehow it was really important to say it now.

She had no idea how much time passed before she heard Wilson say to a nurse in the background, "Time of death..." and then his hand was on her shoulder. She clutched it and cried into it.

Dimly she was aware that someone knocked on the door, that Wilson left the room, and she was on her own for awhile, grieving.

Gradually the room and the world returned around her, and she sat quietly, numb and exhausted now, the odd tear still occasionally escaping out of her eyes. When the door next opened she turned to see who it was. It was Wilson, and he looked dazed and confused. He came and sat down next to her.

"I got the job," he said. "And I've never cared less about such a thing in my life."

Nora knew exactly what he meant. "Congratulations," she whispered, her voice hoarse from crying. "I'm glad."

As far as Nora knew, Wilson never did find out about the conversation she'd had with his interview panel; certainly she never mentioned it to him.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

**TITLE:** Memoirs of an Oncology Department Secretary (3/4)  
**AUTHOR:** hwshipper  
**DISCLAIMER: **All characters belong to Heel and Toe Films, Shore Z Productions and Bad Hat Harry Productions in association with Universal Media Studios.  
**SUMMARY** **Overall:** The POV of Nora, Wilson 's assistant, an OFC, on the House/Wilson relationship, spanning from Wilson 's arrival at PPTH to early season 4, twelve years later. **This part:** Nora observes how bad Wilson is at relationships. Includes Wilson's marriage to Julie.  
**BETA:** the sterling triedunture

**Memoirs of an Oncology Department Secretary - chapter 3**

"Nora, hi," Wilson was bright and cheerful as he walked into her office. "Um, I think I'll be needing the guitar back shortly, any chance you could bring it in tomorrow?"

"Of course," Nora said briskly, and made a note. She hesitated, then couldn't resist asking, but was careful to put it in work-related terms. "Presumably you'll be busy interviewing with Dr. House over the next few days, then. Shall I block out some time in your schedule?"

"No, not this time." Wilson perched on the side of her desk. "He's not interviewing in the traditional way. He's got some sort of endurance trial lined up for everyone who sent in a resumé. I get to sit on the sidelines and watch the slow motion crash. Should be fun."

"Mmm." Nora was non-committal. She remembered something. "Speaking of jobs... you've got a request for a reference here. For Nurse Brad."

Wilson's eyebrows shot up. "No kidding. Right. Good. Excellent." He hesitated, thinking. "Could you please draft one, Nora, then email it to me and I'll look it over."

"Positive?" Nora asked, meaning the tone of the reference.

"Glowing," Wilson said firmly. "Perfect for, um, whatever the job is he's applying for." He hopped off her desk. "Thanks, Nora."

Nora smiled and made another note on her pad. She reflected wryly on how useless her boss was at relationships, and remembered how she'd had that realization brought home to her.

* * *

After Jack's death, Nora took a couple of weeks off work. They had never had children, but both she and Jack had large extended families who rallied 'round to help her, and came en masse to his funeral. Dr. Wilson came to the funeral too. When she thanked him, he said awkwardly that he'd always been fond of Jack. "We used to joke we were namesakes," he said, with a wry smile. Nora smiled sadly back; they'd never gotten around to changing that name badge. 

Back at work afterwards, there was much to do in the wake of Dr. Collins' retirement, and Nora flung herself into it all, desperate to keep busy, to keep memories of Jack out of her head for at least a few minutes at a time. The first thing Wilson did as Head of Department was to decide that he wasn't moving to Dr. Collins' office. Nora was initially dismayed by this; Dr. Collins' office was so much larger and more fitting for a department head, and next door to her own office; but Wilson was adamant. Nora understood why and accepted it reluctantly. One of the doctors who had unsuccessfully applied for the job got the office instead, and seemed to feel getting the office was good compensation, so at least it served to smooth a few ruffled feathers.

Time passed. Nora found it a great relief working for Dr. Wilson instead of Dr. Collins, whose whisky intake had increased markedly in the last year running up to his retirement. Nora's grief about Jack, initially raw and all-consuming, started to dull. Small things could still affect her, though, and sometimes there wasn't even a trigger; she would be working peacefully away in her office and suddenly she would remember something about Jack, and tears would come flooding out.

One day she became aware that Dr. Wilson seemed happier than usual. She hadn't thought about it much before, but he hadn't really been happy for a few years now, not since House's infarction. Now there was a spring in his step that hadn't been there before, a beam in his eyes when he smiled, borne not only from momentary amusement but some deeper cause for contentment. Nora wondered why.

She thought she got a hefty clue soon afterwards, when a patient of his unexpectedly required emergency surgery. Wilson had been about to leave work for the evening, and Nora came dashing to his office to find him, knowing he would want to do this surgery himself. He did. He discarded his coat and briefcase, and as he walked hurriedly down the corridor to go scrub up, he said, "Nora, can you do me a favor and call someone for me?"

"Of course." Nora already had a notepad in her hand, and fished for the pencil from behind her ear.

Wilson dictated a phone number to her rapidly, and said, "Her name's Julie; can you tell her I'm sorry I can't come to the play tonight, and explain why. Tell her I'll call her tomorrow."

Nora noted it down diligently in shorthand. She was careful not to say anything, or let her expression change, but Wilson grinned at her. He said, "Not what you think. She's just a friend. She got divorced recently and I'm trying to bring her out of her shell a bit. That's all."

"Of course," Nora said primly, and watched him stride away towards the operating room.

She went back to her office and phoned the number straight away. She was sorry to get a voicemail message rather than Julie in person. She left the message and hung up, her mind busy with possibilities. A divorced woman... likely to empathize with Wilson's own two divorces, perhaps. This Julie might be just a friend now, but surely this was potential girlfriend material. Nora wasn't a big matchmaker; on the contrary, she was always very careful not to interfere in other people's lives, and disapproved when other people did. But she now recalled what Wilson had said on his very first day in the hospital while filling out that form; _guess I haven't met the right girl yet_. She supposed he was still looking. Certainly he had had dates over the years, Nora knew that, they'd just never been serious. He was too good-looking not to date; women across the hospital made passes at him all the time, and he was usually too flattered by the attention to resist. House was always digging at him about it, always had, though Nora had noticed that what had once been comparatively light-hearted remarks had got increasingly barbed in the post-Stacy era.

In fact, thinking about it, she realized that Wilson's recent good mood had coincided with a bad mood for House. She hadn't connected the two before—House was always going through up and downs, good and bad days. Nora thought of the _indiscretion in the car park_; she had no doubt that House and Wilson had had that kind of relationship for a long time, and still did. But regardless of that, it was also clear to Nora that women floated in and out of the lives of these two too; you just had to remember Stacy and Wilson's ex-wives. There was no reason why another one shouldn't come along for Wilson, and if it made him happy, then Nora was glad.

* * *

Christmas that year was particularly hard for Nora. She and Jack had never spent Christmas apart in all their years together. Nora decided to work right up until Christmas Eve, opting to travel down to her sister's house for a break only on Christmas Day itself. She helped organize all the parties for the children on the oncology wards. As many as possible went home for Christmas, of course, but there were always some that couldn't. 

Dr. Wilson was still in happy mode, and Nora was convinced by now that he was in a relationship. She wasn't sure that it was with Julie, though, as Wilson was definitely being secretive about it, and Nora couldn't really see why he would be secretive about Julie when he had asked her to call Julie that time. Wilson was a workaholic who thought nothing of staying all night if a patient needed him, but she started to find him slipping away from work slightly earlier than usual occasionally, and not because of House. Also, sometimes he was only contactable via his cell out of hours at times when she might have expected to find him at home. Now that she was his personal assistant she had ready access to his e-mail, calendar, and contacts, and she found he kept almost no personal information there at all. Some people didn't, of course, but she found it a little surprising.

On Christmas Eve, Nora was thoroughly unhappy, missing Jack very badly, and wishing she'd decided to stop work a few days earlier. The offices and the wards were fairly quiet but the people who were around were doing little work, relaxing, chatting instead, and Nora felt herself becoming more and more alienated from the Christmas cheer. Late in the day, she felt the need to be alone for a while, and she crept away to a small darkened ward which she knew was empty over the Christmas period, as all the children who usually occupied it had been able to go home for a few days. She went to sit in the far corner, in a large wing-backed chair, and just sat quietly. After a while she dozed off.

She woke with a jump an hour later when suddenly the door opened and in came Wilson, followed by House. Nora froze. House and Wilson both glanced only cursorily around the room, not spotting Nora half-hidden in the wing-backed chair. House shut the door gently behind them, and leaned first his cane and then his body back against the door.

Then Wilson put his hands on House's shoulders, and House wrapped his arms right around Wilson, and they kissed.

Although the room was dark, it wasn't pitch black like it had been in the car park that time; a band of light streaked in through a glass panel above the door. Nora could see them perfectly well.

She'd never seen anything like it in her life, at least not this close up, apart from on TV. It was tender, and erotic. House and Wilson kissed with familiarity, in the way Nora had once with Jack; tongues sweeping gently around each others mouths, lips meeting and moving together, teeth gently biting, nibbling. Wilson put his hand up to House's face, running his fingers down House's cheek and neck; House put his hand up to the back of Wilson's head, running his fingers through Wilson's hair. Then Wilson pushed forward with a degree more intensity, pressing his body up against House's, grinding his crotch up against House's. House made a deep groaning sound and pressed back, but then pulled his head away slightly.

"Whoa, Wilson," he rasped. "You need to stop thinking with your dick. I can see the headlines now: _Top Onc Doc Caught With His Pants Down In Children's Ward_."

"They've all gone home for Christmas," Wilson muttered.

"And that's the only thing that matters, right? You've got a perfectly good office just down the hall, if you can't wait 'til we get home." House hooked a hand around the back of Wilson's neck. "Actually, I guess I'm flattered by the attention. Anyone would think you weren't already getting regular sex elsewhere."

"Shut up." Wilson nuzzled House's neck.

"Oh, come on. Just because you're in love doesn't mean you have to lose your sense of humor."

"I am _not_ in love," Wilson said huffily.

"Oh yeah? Since you started seeing..." House looked at the ceiling, but apparently couldn't recall the name, "...thingamajig, you seem a whole lot more in love than you did when, oh let me see, when you married either of your wives."

"Way to destroy the mood, House. Shut the fuck up and let's get out of here," Wilson said, stepping back, annoyed. House leaned away from the door and picked up his cane; Wilson led the two of them out of the room.

Nora sat in her chair, mouth dry, relieved at not having been spotted, hardly able to believe what she'd just seen. Okay, so they'd been doing more than kissing in the car park that time... but she hadn't been able to _see_ that. This, on the other hand... House and Wilson, locked at the mouth, standing pressed right up against each other... And their conversation—how interesting was that! Wilson _was_ in some sort of relationship—just as she'd suspected—and House thought he was in love, with whoever it was; and she didn't think House was the type to bandy the word _love _around without meaning it. Nora's brain went into speculation overdrive.

She waited a while before creeping out of the room herself. On her way out of the building, she glanced at Wilson's office and saw a light on under the door. She resisted the temptation to go up and put her ear to the keyhole.

* * *

Nora returned to work in the new year to find Wilson was still chirpy. She refrained heroically from asking any questions. It wasn't her business. (And she was never, ever, going to let on to being in that children's ward on Christmas Eve). She took his cheerful demeanor as a sign that his affair, or whatever, was still going on. And when he booked a few days vacation to make a long weekend in mid-February, she was sure this was for a romantic weekend away. It included Valentine's Day, after all. Wilson rarely took leave, and when he did it was usually for some reason to do with House, but not this time. The day Wilson went away, House was there at work, not doing very much, more grouchy than ever, trying the patience of his staff even more than usual. 

Then unexpectedly, Nora found she had to call Wilson on the second day of his vacation. She wouldn't have done if there had been any choice about it, but he'd specifically asked to be informed of any change in the condition of one of his youngest patients. So she reluctantly dialed his cell, and to her enormous amazement, someone else picked up.

"Hello?" said a strange voice. A _male _voice.

"Um, this is Nora from Princeton Plainsboro, can I speak to Dr. Wilson please?" Nora asked, hoping she didn't sound as surprised as she felt. She was caught completely off-balance.

"Sure, he'll be back in just a minute," the voice said easily. "He's just struggling to get his ski boots off. Nora, you're his assistant at the hospital, aren't you?"

"Um, yes I am." _And you are__—_ Nora silently screamed.

"Hi, nice to talk to you. I'm Chris."

"Chris. Hi," Nora repeated back weakly. Was she supposed to know who he was?

"James doesn't talk much about his work colleagues, but he's mentioned you," Chris went on, chattily. "You're the one who really runs the department, right?"

"Dr. Wilson is too kind." She gathered some of her wits together. "I can call back later, or perhaps you could get him to call me—"

"No, no, he's just coming," Chris said. "Looks like he's got those boots off at last. Just as well, as we're off to the hot tubs now, and it might be a bit awkward with boots on." His voice was humorous. "Hang on, here he comes." She heard Chris call out in the background, "James! Nora on the phone for you."

Then she heard Wilson, in the background, speaking to Chris. "You picked up my phone?" Wilson sounded horrified.

"Yes. Why not?" Chris's voice, muffled now as if he'd put a palm over the receiver, was aggrieved.

"You know perfectly well—" Wilson's voice was louder, then dropped to a furious whisper.

There was a brief conversation of which Nora only heard a few words, Chris saying, "You have to lighten up—"

Then silence for a few seconds, and then Wilson came on the line properly. "Hello, Nora?" Wilson now sounded calm and professional.

Nora, worried, uptight, responded in kind, as if the previous conversation hadn't happened. "Dr. Wilson, you wanted to be informed if the condition of the Smith child changed."

"I certainly did," Wilson said briskly, and Nora relaxed a little. She read out the relevant details from the file. Wilson pondered for a moment, then gave some directions for a slight alteration in medication. Nora repeated the details back to him, then said formally that she hoped he was having a good break and she'd see him on Monday. Wilson said, equally solemn, yes, see you Monday, and hung up.

Nora put the receiver down, her mind whirling. She'd been half right. Dr. Wilson didn't have a new girlfriend, he had a new _boyfriend_.

And she hadn't seen it coming, despite everything she'd seen and knew about House and Wilson. House's recent sulks and apathy took on a whole new meaning.

She went to give the new dosages to the medical team looking after the Smith child, then took the file back to Wilson's office. As she put it down on his desk, she saw a photograph resting among the rows of soft toys and other trinkets. She would not have given it a second glance if it hadn't been for the phone call just then—but with Chris' voice fresh in her mind, her eye fastened on the photograph, a head and shoulders shot of a man. It didn't look like a patient gift.

She picked it up to look on the back, but it was blank. She peered more closely at the stranger's face in the picture. He looked pleasant enough, nice smile, soft gray eyes, clean-shaven, fair hair curling over towards his eyes. He was wearing a dark T-shirt and a biker's leather jacket.

She was still looking at the photo, embarrassingly, when House walked in a moment later.

She put it down immediately, but too late, House had seen what she was looking at. He cast her a suspicious look as he limped over to Wilson's couch and slumped down onto it.

Nora had too much dignity to bolt out of the door, however much she wanted to. She was Wilson's assistant and every much as right to be in the room as House did. More. She shuffled a couple of papers on Wilson's desk to make the point. House watched her, and she looked up at him to see him visibly hesitating.

Then House asked abruptly, "Have you met him?"

Nora was startled, then realized House was talking about the man in the photo.

"No," she said, and although it went against the grain, she asked a question herself because she really had to know, and because House had asked a question first. "This is—Chris?"

She saw cogs turning in House's head, as he evaluated the information that she had heard of Chris but did not, apparently, know what he looked like. She in return was busy processing the knowledge that House knew about Chris, knew what he looked like, must have met him, Chris must be the person that Wilson was seeing, _the_ one House thought Wilson was in love with, the one Wilson was now away with on Valentine's Day. And House must be really desperate to know more if he had resorted to asking _her _about it.

"Yes," House said eventually, and Nora was relieved he had answered. That was all he was willing to say on the subject, apparently; House slung his legs up on the couch, lay back and closed his eyes. No knowledge of body language was necessary to see House was claiming his territory. Nora shuffled a few more papers, and left.

Later she realized how doubly galling it must be for House that Wilson was away _skiing_. Skiing was exactly the sort of thing that House and Stacy had used to do, sometimes with Wilson. And House would never ski again.

* * *

Wilson was back on Monday. Nora had decided she was absolutely not going to say anything about Chris. If Wilson volunteered anything about their conversation, and the mysterious man who had picked up the phone, that was one thing. But it was none of her business, and she was not going to ask. 

The moment she walked past House's office that morning though, she had an inkling things might not be well. House was slumped in his chair wearing dark glasses and looking decidedly rough. She came into Wilson's office and found Wilson sitting there, listlessly staring at his computer screensaver. She wished him a good morning, and he barely seemed to hear her. Nora looked down at his desk, and immediately noticed that the photo of Chris had gone.

She looked back at Wilson and, in a flash, understood what had happened. They'd split up. And her boss had had his heart broken. And he now had the mother of all hangovers, presumably drowning his sorrows with House last night.

She wondered if her phone call had caused a fight, and the thought made her chest feel tight.

"Dr. Wilson," she said firmly. "I'm going to rearrange all your appointments for today. You should go home. You're obviously not well."

She watched this penetrate his fogged brain.

"I don't want to go home," he said eventually. "But perhaps it would be a good idea if you rearranged my appointments."

"I'll do it now. I'll swap your clinic duty this afternoon for you, too." Nora left the room and ridiculously felt close to tears. He'd been so... _happy,_ and now it was over.

Later that day, she was walking past House's office and saw House pacing around, tossing a ball up and down, obviously thinking. A whiteboard was set up in the next door conference room and one of his staff was sitting there tapping away on a laptop; House had a case. And Wilson was there in House's office, curled up in House's armchair, not apparently contributing to the diagnostic process, just being there. Nora interpreted this as House's way of helping Wilson; keeping him company, letting him have a corner of his office, and also a corner of his life.

* * *

Nora could see Wilson grieving over Chris for several weeks, though she was sure anyone else in the hospital who noticed (and after that first day, he hid it well) his sad demeanour would have just put it down to stress, and coping with House. 

Then Wilson seemed to turn a corner, becoming much more cheerful and buoyant. Nora wondered what had happened. He seemed to be getting on well enough with House, who had tempered down his own bad moods, possibly in acknowledgment of Wilson splitting up with Chris. But equally, she didn't think the improvement in House's attitude warranted Wilson being as cheerful as he was.

Nora got her explanation, and again it came as a complete surprise. Wilson walked into her office one day wearing his _I need a favor_ expression; charming, puppy-dog.

"Nora, someone's meeting me here later, but she's arriving before I finish in the clinic, and I don't want her waiting in my office," he said. "Would you mind if I left her here in your office for a bit? Just for fifteen minutes or so."

_Her? _"Of course, that's fine, Dr. Wilson," Nora said, trying not to look surprised.

He beamed at her. "Thanks. It's Julie. I think you spoke to her on the phone once. I'll bring her along when she arrives."

He left. Nora sat trying to make sense of this. She could think of only one reason why Wilson wouldn't want this Julie in his office—he didn't want Julie to meet House. House never missed a visitor to Wilson's office. And she could think of only one reason why Wilson wouldn't want Julie to meet House—if he was in a relationship with her, and wanted to avoid all that possessiveness House was apt to display at times.

Nora never cursed, and rarely even thought in terms of swear words, but she did now; the words _rebound fuck_ ran inextricably across her mind. She blushed at the thought, but couldn't erase it.

Her fears were swiftly confirmed when Julie arrived; Wilson led her in, apologized prettily to both Julie and Nora for the inconvenience, and kissed Julie before leaving. Briefly, but on the mouth. Undoubtedly Julie had girlfriend status. Nora could hardly believe it.

"So, you're James' assistant?" Julie said brightly, once they were on their own.

"That's right. I've been assistant to the Head of Oncology here for twenty years," Nora said, wondering if Julie had any idea what kind of situation she was in. "So how did you two meet?"

Julie chatted happily away for the next ten minutes about how she'd just been divorced and was wondering what to do with the rest of her life, how she and James had met some time ago and recently started dating, and how great he was, and how nice it was for her to see where he worked at last. Nora nodded in all the right places and smiled encouragingly.

"Nora, do you know House?" Julie said, unexpectedly.

"Er, yes, of course. He's head of Diagnostics here," Nora said, not sure where this was going.

"I just wondered. I know he's James' best friend. But I haven't met him yet. James seems to feel it's a big deal," Julie confided. "I know they've known each other like forever, and I was thinking maybe, for James, me meeting House is the equivalent of meeting the parents; it would mean things were serious, and he's perhaps a bit shy of that, maybe feels it's a bit soon." She laughed self-consciously.

"Maybe," Nora said cautiously. "Dr. House is also quite, um, eccentric." How to sum up House in a few words? "He can be quite difficult to get along with. He doesn't necessarily take well to meeting new people." What a diplomat she was. "I'm sure Dr. Wilson is just waiting for the right moment."

Julie considered this. "Well, that does make sense."

Nora was immensely relieved that Wilson chose that moment to return and take Julie away.

Quite when House did find out about Julie, Nora had no idea. There wasn't any big explosion or rift with Wilson as far as Nora could see, but one morning she walked into Wilson's office with his mail and found there was a photo of Julie which had appeared on Wilson's desk, in the same place the photo of Chris had been in before. Nora saw that it clearly wasn't a secret anymore.

* * *

If Nora had been surprised to find out about Chris, and amazed to find out Wilson was going out with Julie, she was completely gobsmacked the Monday morning only a few months later when Wilson walked into her office, waved his left hand in front of her face, and said, "Nora, I wanted you to be the first to know. Julie and I got married this weekend." 

Nora felt her jaw go slack. This must be a dream. It could not be real. She looked at the ring on Wilson's finger.

"Congratulations," she said, her good manners and professional training pushing the word out. She hoped she didn't sound too horrified. "Er, I had no idea."

"Well, it was rather impulsive." Wilson beamed. "We decided it was what we wanted, flew out to Vegas, and did it."

Nora really could not believe it. "That's very—romantic."

"Isn't it?" Wilson looked at the ring as if he couldn't quite believe it either.

"When you say 'first to know,'" Nora said hesitantly, feeling her way, "you must mean—apart from Dr. House—"

"Oh yes, House was there," Wilson said, and by now Nora was through being surprised at anything. "He was one of our witnesses. Him and Julie's best friend flew out with us. House was best man at my previous two weddings, you know. Have to keep up the tradition."

_Tradition or curse?_ was what sprung immediately to Nora's mind, and she barely stopped the words coming out of her mouth.

Wilson departed, saying he was off to let Cuddy know his news. Once he'd gone, Nora was sufficiently moved to do possibly the most unprofessional thing she had ever done. She went straight to House's office, where House was sitting playing with a yo-yo, burst in, and demanded, "_How could you let him do such a thing!?"_

House looked at her, and his blue eyes were cold. For a second Nora thought he was going to floor her with a blast of invective.

But instead, he said, quite mildly, "Believe it or not, I've saved Wilson from lots of crappy potential marriages in the past. I can't catch them all."

He spun the yo-yo down to the floor expertly, and it returned to his hand in a seamless flow. Nora watched this, and couldn't help but see House spinning other people on the end of his carefully controlled string. She looked at House, and said slowly, "You'd rather he was married to Julie than still seeing Chris."

House shrugged, and offered, "I had a ball in Vegas."

Nora stood burning with indignation for a minute, then left. If House's office door hadn't been glass, she would have slammed it shut behind her.

Later, musing over the situation, Nora realized for the first time what a screwed-up individual her boss actually was. He was so smart, clever, successful; so good at his job, so good at interacting with people in so many ways. And yet he was so useless at conducting personal relationships of his own, with anyone except for House, and that was hardly a healthy relationship, it was just a whole different set of problems.

She thought about this a lot as she watched Wilson's marriage gradually disintegrate over the next three years.

* * *

The first year or so, it was actually fine. In fact, it looked like it might just work out. With Wilson on his third marriage and Julie on her second, Nora supposed both of them must have been really quite keen for this one to succeed, and they worked on it. She saw Wilson visibly trying to balance work, home, and House, and managing pretty well most of the time. Julie occasionally appeared at the hospital at social events, on Wilson's arm, smiling, and all seemed to be well. The hospital, although surprised at Wilson's sudden change of matrimonial status (and Nurse Brenda wasn't the only one to offer the loud opinion that Julie must be pregnant—this thought simply appalled Nora and she was very glad that time eventually proved it wrong) took the news in its stride. 

Julie and Wilson gave a series of dinner parties, so the Oncology staff got invited in small groups to their bosses' home, which most people were very curious to see. Nora, invited along with other admin staff, was as curious as anyone. Wilson had moved out of his small bachelor apartment, and in with Julie; Julie already had a large home inherited from her previous marriage. Nora wondered how Wilson felt, moving into what had been some other husband's home in the not too distant past.

Wilson answered the door, beaming. "Nora, how nice to see you." He took her coat and ushered her in.

Nora wandered round the house, admiring the decor. "What a lovely home you have," she said to Julie, who looked pleased and proud, and had prepared a roast dinner which went down very well.

Nora couldn't honestly see much of Wilson's influence on the decor (floral, chintzy), or indeed many of his possessions around, and inwardly speculated that it was all exactly as it had been before he moved in. It seemed inappropriate to ask, though.

The other thing that struck her, and she smiled to herself when she thought of it, was that she half-expected to find House living there, slouched in a corner somewhere. It was a ridiculous thought.

* * *

Nora observed that House, though never ceasing to be demanding on Wilson's time and energy, could also be seen trying to give Wilson some space in that first year of marriage. He was actually working extremely well now, by House's standards anyway; not many patients overall, but the ones he took were invariably diagnosed and almost invariably cured, and usually in a fashion which impressed the medical profession. He was partly benefiting from working with an established team, as his current fellows had each managed a couple of years with him now. 

It was unfortunate that this meant they were also now starting to look for other jobs; Wilson remarked to Nora that he anticipated having to sit in on interviews again probably for all three posts within the next year. The first of the new intake to be recruited was Robert Chase, an intensivist. Nora liked hearing his Australian accent pinging around the hospital corridors, it made her think of sun and sea. She'd never traveled much.

It was soon after Chase's arrival that Nora started to notice cracks appearing in Wilson's marriage. House lost another of his established fellows, and in the interim months before Dr. Alison Cameron was hired, he was a person down and working with Chase, who was new. Then, no sooner was Cameron hired then his third fellow resigned, leaving House still a person down and now with two newbies to cope with. House, never good with change, started to swoop down and poach Wilson at crucial moments, not only when Wilson was busy with work (which aggravated Nora) but also when he should really have been at home, with Julie.

Julie took to contacting Wilson via phone message left with Nora, rather than leaving him a voicemail or e-mail or text. Nora found this initially irritating, then embarrassing, and finally realized Julie was using this as a weapon to get at Wilson, by ensuring his assistant at work knew all about what a terrible husband he was. Usually the messages were short, acerbic questions as to why he hadn't come home the night before or reminders that he really had to be home this evening for some reason. Sometimes they were more important communications, which made Nora wonder if they actually talked at all anymore.

The worst example of this came after House had hired Dr. Foreman so he actually had a full team of three again, and once more seemed to be striving to give Wilson some space; apparently the damage had already been done. Julie called at a time when Nora knew Julie must have known Wilson was on clinic duty and his phone diverted to hers.

"Dr. Wilson's phone," Nora said, looking at the caller ID and mentally groaning.

"Nora, hi, it's Julie," Julie said brightly. "Listen, can you tell James I've just arranged to go away for a few days so he'll have to fend for himself."

"Of course," Nora said politely, pen poised over her pad.

"Leaving Thursday next week, and I'll be back the following Monday," Julie dictated. "Got it? Thanks!" She rang off, rather hastily, Nora thought. Nora glanced at her desk calendar, and suddenly realized what Julie was doing. She was going away for Christmas. That Saturday was Christmas Day. And letting her husband know by phone message... _the bitch_, Nora thought, with an uncharacteristic surge of anger.

Nora waited until Wilson was back from clinic, then walked down to his office to find him at his desk. She normally read phone messages out to him, as she tended to write them in shorthand which he couldn't read, also he often dictated replies and actions on the spot, but she couldn't bring herself to read this one out. She'd written it out longhand and put it down in front of him. Wilson looked at her in surprise, then read the message, then computed the dates in his head. His cheeks flushed pink, and he crumpled the paper in his hand. Nora turned to beat a retreat, but Wilson said to her departing back, "That was it? That was all she said?"

"Yes," Nora muttered, and hurried out of the room.

In the new year she found out Wilson had spent Christmas at House's, eating Chinese takeout, which pleased her, as the thought of Wilson knocking around his home on his own saddened her greatly.

* * *

"Nora, can you do me a favor?" Wilson came into Nora's office but didn't sit down; he was clearly in a hurry. "I need a get well card. And a present. A teddy bear or something. Not from the hospital shop." 

"Of course." Nora made a note. "Is there a message?"

"No, I'll write it. You'll never guess who it's for," Wilson remarked. She looked at him inquisitively. He grinned wryly. "You remember Stacy? It's her husband, Mark. He's sick and House is treating him."

What a strange small world it was, Nora pondered. And fancy Stacy getting married. Somehow Nora had always thought it was possible she would come back, but not married. Mark Warner was soon diagnosed, but he and Stacy stayed around for a while after, and Nora saw Wilson change his mind almost daily about whether this was a good or a bad thing. At any rate it was disruptive for House, which meant it was disruptive for Wilson; so Nora was glad when Stacy eventually left, and didn't come back this time.

* * *

The Stacy interlude and aftermath only further served to distract Wilson from spending as much time as he should with Julie. Nora well remembered the last day when the phone rang and it was Julie. Nora now had the number programmed into her phone so the caller ID read Julie Wilson. Nora picked up and said, "Hello, Mrs. Wilson." 

"Nora." Julie's voice was chilly. "Can you pass on a message to James, please. Can you tell him that _my_ divorce lawyer is waiting for _his_ divorce lawyer to call. I assume he's not having difficulty finding one given his previous marriage history, but it's been two weeks now and I would like to move on. Thank you, Nora." The phone went dead.

Nora put the receiver down slowly. So this was it. And how typical that it was Julie who let her know, via phone message. She wrote the message out carefully, then went straight along the corridor to leave it on Wilson's desk, she didn't actually want to be there when he saw this one. Unfortunately he was there in his office when she got there. Nora realized belatedly that Julie must have called her number direct this time.

"Hi, Nora," Wilson said cheerfully. "What's up?"

"Your wife called," Nora said quietly, and came forward to give him the message.

Wilson grimaced and waved it away. "Just tell me."

"I don't think—" Nora began.

"We had a fight, I'm staying with House for a bit," Wilson said tersely. "I guess she called to rub it in, right?"

"She said that _her_ divorce lawyer is waiting for _your_ divorce lawyer to call," Nora blurted out, and Wilson went absolutely rigid in his chair.

"Right," he said eventually. "Um, thanks, Nora."

Nora backed out of the room as quickly as she could.

* * *

Wilson stayed with House for a few weeks, during which time there was much bickering, mind-games, and prank-playing, culminating in the famous moment when Wilson sawed through House's cane and it collapsed on him in the middle of a hospital corridor. Nora was told about this by four different people, all of whom claimed to have been in the corridor at the time. 

One incident during this period stayed long in Nora's mind, and she never told a soul about it. She was about to go home one evening when a set of patient scans came back from the lab for Wilson. He'd been waiting for them earlier, but had eventually given up and left, as he and House had been going to a ball game that evening. Wilson would want to see these scans as soon as possible, Nora knew. She could call him and he'd come in the office. Better yet, she could drop them off to him on her own way home. She would drop them at House's and Wilson would find them when they got back from the game. That way he could look at them and then decide whether to come in or not.

Nora had been to House's apartment a few times to drop things off or pick things up, she'd even been in as far as the living room once, but had not sat down. She arrived at 221B and got in the front door easily enough as someone else was coming out. She then found that the envelope of scans was too wide to slip under the door. She was about to leave them in the hallway, propped against the door (it was unlikely anyone would want to steal them, after all) when a thought occurred to her and she stood on her toes to grope above the door frame for a key. Lo and behold, there was one. She unlocked the door and slipped inside, intending to leave the envelope on the coffee table.

She realized immediately that she'd made a mistake. The TV was on, sound low, but on. Looked like House and Wilson had decided not to go to the ball game after all. They weren't anywhere to be seen, though. She walked forward and put the envelope on the coffee table, and then she heard a sound she could only describe as a _moan_. She knew she should turn around and leave right now, but curiosity got the better of her. She peered around, and moved across the room to see where the sound had come from. She inched down House's hallway, and saw a door at the end on the left standing open. it was the bedroom—she could see the corner of the bed. She inched forward a little more, and suddenly she went from seeing nothing to far too much.

House and Wilson, on the bed, in bed, together. Pressed together so tightly she could hardly distinguish the two of them, arms clutching, legs writhing. Wilson on top, House underneath with a large pillow supporting his bad leg—and Nora could see the scar, black and huge, running up his thigh, she had never seen that before. House with his eyes shut, absorbed in the moment; Wilson, panting, sweating, hair flopped down over his eyes, utterly focused on House.

Nora backed away as quietly as she possibly could. She had the presence of mind to take the envelope off the coffee table as she left. She put it back down in the hallway propped up against the door.

Later, she reflected ruefully on how this had happened, berating herself for being nosy. She also thought how ironic it was that she, Nora, who prided herself on keeping herself to herself, who liked to think of herself as the consummate professional, had ended up seeing her boss in a compromising position with House—not once, not twice, but three times. What a very strange world it was.

* * *

A month later Wilson came and handed her a completed change of address form. It gave his new address as a hotel. 

"You don't have to fill one of these with temporary addresses," Nora pointed out.

Wilson looked slightly embarrassed. "Actually I've paid up to stay there for a few months, could be longer." He clearly felt the need to explain. "It seemed easier than finding an apartment right now. Hey, I get all my laundry and cleaning done."

"I guess that's true," Nora said lightly, not wanting to pursue this when Wilson was obviously so awkward about it, but at the same time feeling this was very sad. He might be spared cleaning, but... he wouldn't be able to cook properly in a hotel, and she knew how much pleasure he took from that. She couldn't help but add, "You're not staying with Dr. House any more, then."

"No, I moved out of there a couple of weeks ago, before we drove each other completely mad," Wilson tried to make a joke out of it.

Nora smiled dutifully, but again felt sad. Part of her had thought, hoped, that House and Wilson could live together and make each other happy in some peculiar way . . . but it didn't look like it was going to happen. Not now, anyway. She wasn't surprised, though; by now she knew very well how terrible her boss was at relationships.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

**TITLE:** Memoirs of an Oncology Department Secretary (4/4)  
**AUTHOR:** hwshipper  
**DISCLAIMER: **All characters belong to Heel and Toe Films, Shore Z Productions and Bad Hat Harry Productions in association with Universal Media Studios.  
**SUMMARY** **Overall,** the POV of Nora, Wilson 's assistant, an OFC, on the House/Wilson relationship, spanning from Wilson 's arrival at PPTH to early season 4, twelve years later. **This part**: Nora watches House and Wilson's relationship suffer through the reign of Tritter.  
**BETA:** the sterling triedunture

**Memoirs of an Oncology Department Secretary - chapter 4**

Nora walked into Wilson's office carrying the guitar. She'd come in especially early as she didn't want House to see her with it, but Wilson had still beaten her in.

"Thank you," Wilson greeted her, and stood up to take the case. "Just in time, too; House is seeing all forty of his applicants today and he wants to serenade them. Or something."

She handed the guitar to him, glad to be rid of it.

"Um, Dr. Wilson, do you have a minute?" she asked.

"Of course." Wilson looked surprised and sat down. Nora sat down in front of his desk, feeling a little awkward.

"I just wanted to tell you something. You know I'll be sixty next year, well, I've been thinking about this for a while, and I've decided to retire then, when I get to sixty." It all came out in a rush. "I'll have worked at Princeton Plainsboro for forty years . . . it's time for a break. I think I'd like to do some traveling, perhaps. Anyway, I thought you'd like to know."

Wilson looked mortified. "Nora! Don't leave me!" His voice was light, but stricken. "I can't run this place without you!"

She laughed. "Of course you can."

"I'm not so sure," Wilson said earnestly. He rubbed a hand over his face. "What can I say? Nora, nobody deserves to retire more than you—I just wish I could retire at the same time. You've still got a year, right? Then I want you to devote your last year to finding me a doppelganger to replace you."

She laughed again. "Of course I will."

She left him sitting at his desk, holding House's guitar, and looking mournful. She was relieved, feeling a weight off her mind for having told him. She hummed cheerfully to herself as she walked down the corridors. And she thought how pleased she was that he was still the Head of Oncology.

Because there had been a couple of times in the last few years where she'd really thought he'd be leaving Princeton Plainsboro before she would.

* * *

Her stomach had hit the floor that day Wilson had walked in her office and announced, "I've resigned."

She looked at him and gaped. "What?" She'd thought it was House who was in trouble, not Wilson.

"Edward fucking Vogler had me tossed off the Management Board for daring to stand up to him." Wilson slumped into the chair in front of her desk. Nora had never seen him so upset; he very rarely swore in front of her. "So I resigned. Fuck knows there's no way I could work for him now."

"And Dr. Cuddy—let him do it?" Nora said in disbelief. She had great faith in Cuddy to see House and Wilson through whatever obstacles lay in their path.

"Cuddy tried. So did Brown—thank him for me when you see him, will you?" Wilson leaned forward and put his head in his hands. "But they weren't prepared to back House. That was just me. I stuck my neck out and Vogler chopped it off." He sighed heavily. "And the worst part is, it's not like it did any good. Vogler will reconvene the Board tomorrow and get rid of House then. And then what will he do? I can get another job, but House. . .?"

Nora thought how typical it was that even now Wilson was thinking about consequences for House and not for himself.

"Can I do anything?" she asked helplessly.

"Yeah, get me some boxes. I'm gonna start packing up my stuff." Wilson got up and walked out of the room.

Nora sat still for a few minutes, numb with shock, then pulled herself together and headed off to the supply room to find some boxes.

* * *

In hindsight, Nora realized the reign of Vogler had been painful, but short-lived. The department had only been without its Head of Oncology for twenty-four hours before Vogler was gone, and Wilson was back. It had been a terrible twenty-four hours, she hadn't slept a wink what with worrying about Wilson, thinking about the possible temporary successors, and trying to figure out the logistics of redistributing Wilson's considerable workload, but once it was over, it was over.

The reign of Tritter was something else altogether.

She first became aware of the vendetta early one morning when Wilson called her, and said, "Nora, I'm going to be in late. Can you re-arrange my morning appointments? I'm waiting for the bank to open, and then I've got to go to the police station."

"Of course," Nora said, unflustered. She figured House needed bailing out again.

"House needs bailing out again. God only knows what he's done this time." Wilson sighed. "I'll be in as soon as I can."

Word soon got around the hospital grapevine. House had got on the wrong side of a policeman, who now seemed intent on proving House was some sort of drug dealer. Nora thought the idea of House parting with any of his previous Vicodin was ridiculous, maybe even a joke, but then she heard House's apartment had been searched, and he'd gotten a lawyer. That all sounded serious.

She was caught completely unawares that evening when a man walked into her office carrying a folder and said, "I'm looking for Dr. Wilson."

She'd never seen him before, but he was obviously a policeman; he must be the cop who was after House. He had been prowling around the hospital, she had heard. She was instantly distrustful. Anything that was a threat to House was also a threat to Wilson.

"He went home about half an hour ago. I'm his assistant," Nora said, stiffly polite. "Can I help you?"

Tritter sat down in front of her desk. He was chewing on nicotine gum, which made Nora feel slightly sick; she associated it with Jack's illness. He'd had to give up smoking when the cancer was diagnosed, and he'd hated that gum too.

"Maybe you can," Tritter said smoothly. "Can you find me an example of Dr. Wilson's signature?"

Nora stared at him. It seemed like an odd request. She couldn't actually think of a reason to refuse, though. She looked through the papers on her desk and found Wilson's signature at the bottom of a letter. She showed it to Tritter, pointedly covering up the body of the letter, although it wasn't about anything sensitive.

Tritter looked at it carefully, then he reached into his folder and took out a clear plastic wallet containing a piece of paper. "Would you say this was Dr. Wilson's signature too? It looks pretty similar."

"It does," Nora agreed guardedly. She looked at the paper. It was a Vicodin prescription for House. She started to have an inkling of where this was going.

"It does indeed," Tritter agreed. "Now this, on the other hand—" he reached into his folder again and took out another plastic wallet—"doesn't actually look like his signature at all, judging from what you've just shown me."

She looked at the second paper, another prescription for House, and felt her mouth go dry. It said _James Wilson_, but it most assuredly was not Wilson's signature. It was far more legible for a start. Her mind started to race, trying to anticipate pitfalls ahead.

"Oh, I think it probably is," she lied through her teeth. Tritter looked surprised. Nora inwardly quaked, but went on, "He has the worst writing of any doctor I've ever known; his signature varies a lot."

"I see," Tritter said slowly. "Would you be prepared to swear that in court?"

"If I had to," Nora said, meeting his eye.

"Well. Let's hope you don't have to." Tritter put the papers back in his folder. "I have to see Dr. Wilson now to show him these. Can you give me his home address?"

Nora gritted his teeth and gave Tritter the address. He raised his eyebrows on hearing it was a hotel, as if inviting explanations. Nora didn't give him any. Not that she really had one, but if she had, she would not have told him.

"Thank you for your help." Tritter stood up to go. "By the way, I'd like my visit to be a surprise. Can you not call Dr. Wilson and warn him I'm coming? Thanks." He smiled possibly the coldest smile Nora had ever seen, and left.

Nora sat, gripping the arms of her chair, her knuckles white. She wanted more than anything to call Wilson - but she didn't dare. The police could trace phone calls. Even if she used her cell, even if she went out and found a public phone—they'd know a call had got through to him, they'd know it must have been her. She just had to trust absolutely that she'd done the right thing. Because if Wilson didn't tell the same story as her—if he admitted that second scrip was a fake—she'd be in really big trouble and all on her own.

But deep down she knew that wouldn't happen, she knew that there was no way on earth Wilson would betray House like that.

Even Nora didn't realize at that moment, though, just how much further Wilson would have to go to _not_ betray House.

* * *

The next day, she went straight to find Wilson and tell him what had happened. He was alarmed to find out that Tritter had spoken to her (Tritter had clearly not mentioned it to him) and obviously relieved when she told him what she'd said. Neither of them referred to the fact that they'd both lied to the police. Nora understood this was not to be mentioned.

The situation turned truly bizarre later that day when she got a call from Wilson on his cell.

"Nora. I'm on my way to Atlantic City."

Nora really thought she must have misheard. "I'm sorry Dr. Wilson, I can't hear you very well."

"I'm going to Atlantic City!" Wilson said loudly. "I'm with House and his patient."

"The man who woke up from a coma?" Nora said incredulously. She'd heard the rumor in the cafeteria like everyone else.

"That's him. He's driving, and it's my car, so... um, anyway, please could you check my calendar and see what I'm supposed to be doing the rest of today? I left in a bit of a hurry and I don't have my PDA with me."

"Just his Ipp-odd," Nora heard House shout in the background.

Nora opened Wilson's calendar on her PC and talked him through it. Two appointments, could be seen by other doctors; two meetings, she'd send apologies. She put the phone down, worried and bemused. She made the necessary arrangements. She recalled the long-standing joke that she was the person who really ran this department; she felt it had never been closer to the truth.

Later that day one of House's fellows took her for coffee (not something that had ever happened before) and pumped her for information about what was happening. Nora let on that Tritter was looking into the prescriptions, knowing that House's staff would be being asked similar questions anyway. She was careful not to let on that House had actually forged the scrips, not that Dr. Cameron would have believed that in any case.

* * *

Wilson arrived at the hospital extremely late the following day, and it wasn't even because of the Atlantic City trip. He'd been to see a lawyer (which Nora was vaguely relieved to hear) and Tritter had towed his car. Oh, and frozen his bank accounts. And to cap it all, had his DEA license suspended. Now Nora had a boss pacing furiously around his office because he had no money and no transport and couldn't even bury himself in his work any more, as he couldn't prescribe medicine for his patients.

House, meanwhile, was busy working as if nothing was happening. Except he'd acquired some sort of shoulder injury and had his arm in a black sling.

And worst of all, Dr. Cuddy seemed far more worried about House than Wilson. Nora understood that House could go to prison and lose his license to practice medicine, and this would be costly to the hospital... but Dr. Wilson had already lost a lot more than House had, and if Tritter found out Wilson had lied, Wilson could also go to prison. Nora, sharing the same lie, felt this particularly strongly. But Dr. Cuddy seemed to value the continuing existence of the Diagnostics Department more highly than the well-being of the Oncology Department. Wilson had dozens of staff and hundreds of patients in his care, and none of them were getting the attention they should right now. Nora felt her faith in Dr. Cuddy shake for the first time since the bad old days of Vogler.

In the midst of it all, Wilson came and sat down in her office and said, "Nora, I think I'm going to quit. Resign. I can't go on like this. The department will be better off without me."

"You can't possibly," Nora said immediately. The thought filled her with horror. She remembered the nightmare twenty-four hours of Vogler.

"I can't let my patients suffer any more because of this," Wilson said, desperation in his voice. "House just kept me waiting three hours—three—before he let Cameron go do a scrip for me. I can't work like this. Someone's going to get hurt and die. I don't know what to do."

_Give up House_, Nora thought but didn't say. "You don't have to quit. There must be other ways round this." She thought for a moment. "Refer your patients elsewhere. Share them with all the other doctors here, maybe send some over to Princeton Hospital."

"And then sit on my ass all day?"

"Dr. Wilson, you're a department head," Nora reminded him, not for the first time. "You're not expected to spend all your time seeing patients. Your caseload is far higher than Dr. Collins' used to be, in fact higher than any other Head of Oncology I've worked for. All the patient files in the whole department come across your desk anyway; you can keep an eye on your patients that way. And your colleagues will ask you for consults on them, too, as you know their histories; you can do that. And you can spend some time on the admin and management side of things instead. It's not like you don't sit on enough committees for that to keep you busy all on its own."

Wilson stared at her, and she could see him realizing she was right.

"Refer everyone out," he said slowly. "Okay, I'll do it. Can you get all my patient files together, and draft me a standard letter? And get me some envelopes. I'll share them all around." He started to look marginally more hopeful than before.

_I so keep this place going_, Nora thought as she turned towards her computer screen.

Although the well-being of the department was always her primary concern, it broke Nora's heart on a personal level to see Wilson ambling around the hospital the next few days, apparently rudderless, and estranged from House. She knew House and Wilson had had a blazing row while Wilson was in the middle of his patient referrals; Nora heard most of it as she was bringing the last few files in to Wilson's office. She'd hoped House might actually want to help Wilson through stuff, but it didn't look like it.

It was very late one evening a few days before Christmas that Wilson came into her office, sat down in front of her desk, and said, "Nora, there's something I need to tell you."

She looked at him, fearful at his tone, and upset at how shattered he looked.

"I'm going to tell Tritter that House forged those scrips," he said.

"No," Nora said instinctively.

"Yes. I have to," Wilson said, sounding more decisive than he had in a while. "I had to tell you first so you know you don't need to . . . tell the same story anymore."

She was grateful for this, but said, "Are you sure you're doing the right thing?"

"Don't make me doubt!" Wilson said, laughing, a touch of hysteria apparent. He got up quickly and left the room.

The next few days were a nightmare: House blazing around the hospital, detoxing, stealing pills, and Wilson suffering because he had to watch House suffering and this time he was the cause. Nora went away to spend Christmas at her sister's, and came back to find House unexpectedly had gone to rehab. Wilson seemed to have gotten part of what he'd wanted, but House was still going to trial, and Wilson was still going around looking stressed and miserable.

The last straw for Nora was when she found Wilson sitting at her desk, not using his computer, not writing, not reading, not even apparently thinking. Just sitting, staring into space. Unable to turn her usual professional blind eye, she sat down on the other side of his desk and asked him tentatively if he was OK. Unexpectedly, he opened up a little.

"It's just waiting for House's trial. The idea he might go to prison." Wilson looked stricken. "I changed my mind, you know, I told Tritter I wouldn't testify. He told me he'd use my statement anyway and I'd go to jail. If he hadn't got House through that pharmacy log instead, I guess that's what would have happened." He sighed. "I told Tritter it would be better me than him, statistically . . . that House saves more lives . . . that the world would be better off that way . . ."

Nora had had enough. She put her scruples aside and said, bluntly, "Dr. Wilson, I have never heard such rubbish."

He looked at her, wide-eyed.

"Of course Dr. House saves lives. Of course he's a genius. That does not mean the world would be better off if you were in jail and he wasn't." Nora realized she was speaking loudly and stabbing the air with a finger, which was most unlike her; she carried on anyway. "Dr. Wilson, I don't mean to be speak out of turn here, but you need help. Look at yourself. You're depressed and you're suffering from low self-esteem. House is in rehab now, getting his own help; you should go see a psychiatrist."

Wilson looked incredulous, then angry, but he was too fair-minded to take offence. He thought for a minute, then said, slowly, "You think I'm . . . depressed?"

"I'm sure you're depressed." Nora had seen it first hand; Jack had suffered from depression many years ago when going through a bad time at work. "Go see a shrink. Please."

Wilson sighed and put his head in his hands. "I can't see a shrink. It wouldn't work. I'd have to talk about House, and there's no way House wouldn't find out, and break in their office, and read my file. I've seen it happen too many times."

"It doesn't have to be anyone at this hospital. It shouldn't be, anyway," Nora urged. "We could find you someone somewhere else. Not in Princeton. Not in Jersey, even."

"I could find a shrink in China and House would hack into their computer and look at their files that way," Wilson retorted.

"House has got a lot of other things to occupy himself at the moment," Nora pointed out. "And you know how self-centered he is. Why would he find out? He's barely noticed most of what he's put you through recently."

"That's not true," Wilson said, automatically leaping to House's defense, then hesitated. "I mean . . . he does notice, but with all his own stuff . . . the detox . . . the trial . . ."

Nora waited.

"All right," Wilson sat forward in his chair, his brow furrowed. "Get me a list of shrinks, as far away from here as possible within driving distance, nowhere House has any connection with. I'll pick one, you can get me an appointment. Keep it out of my calendar, don't write it down anywhere, actually. Just tell me when and where, and I'll go."

* * *

Nora looked back on her shrink recommendation as one of the best things she'd ever done, both for Wilson personally and for the department. She found Wilson a suitable doctor who provided counseling and prescribed anti-depressants, and gradually, over several months, Nora watched Wilson recover some of that vanished self-esteem. She made a new appointment for him every couple of weeks, never the same day or time successively in case House noticed a pattern. If it had been anyone but House the whole situation would have seemed ridiculously cloak and dagger; as it was, neither Wilson nor Nora even stopped to consider going about things in any different way.

House got through his trial, and eased back into his job and although he was still on the Vicodin, Nora could see he was taking less than before. She hoped it had all been worth it. Certainly he and Wilson seemed to find some sort of reconciliation, although it took a bit of time before they were back to how they used to be.

The moment when Nora knew that House and Wilson were back on track was early one morning when she was stopping at a cafe to get some coffee on the way in to work (it was better coffee than that to be found in the hospital cafeteria). As she waited for her order, she suddenly spotted House and Wilson at a table in the corner. It was extremely early for House, she thought idly, before realizing they were both wearing the same clothes they'd been wearing the day before; clearly they'd both pulled all-nighters at the hospital. She recalled that Wilson had been working to meet a deadline for a clinical trial.

It looked like they'd both just finished breakfast; empty plates cluttered their table. And her heart was gladdened to see that they were chatting and smiling about something, and sitting close together—in fact, she rather thought their hands, resting idly on the table, were touching lightly. Actually—and she wouldn't have noticed this if she hadn't looked—she also thought their knees were brushing each other under the table. She watched as Wilson put his head on one side, rested his chin in a hand, and laughed at something House said—they were _flirting_ with each other again. She hadn't seen that in a long time.

Nora didn't intend to disturb them, but then Wilson spotted her. He pulled his hand slightly back from House's (although he didn't move his knee) and waved her over. Nora came over, slightly embarrassed at meeting them both outside of the workplace.

"Nora," Wilson hailed her. "I worked all night to get those patients submitted for that trial. I'm going home now to get a bit of sleep, and shower and change; I'll be in late morning, maybe early afternoon. Just to let you know. I've got a clear calendar, I think."

"You have," Nora confirmed; she'd left it clear deliberately, thinking this might happen. "That's fine; I'll see you later."

"See you later," Wilson echoed. She turned and headed back to the counter, picked up her coffee, and went towards the door. She glanced back just before she left, and saw House and Wilson deep in conversation again. And their hands were _definitely_ touching now.

Later that morning, she found she needed to speak to Wilson, and tried calling his phone at his hotel. He didn't pick up, so she tried his cell, and got him on that instead.

She assumed he'd gone back to House's for that sleep and shower, though of course she didn't ask.

* * *

Nora had many retirement parties which lasted the whole of her last week. She got cards and presents not only from Oncology and Diagnostics but from most other departments in the hospital. She was taken out to dinner by a group of administrative staff colleagues from across the hospital, as well as by Wilson personally. As she was by far the longest serving employee of Princeton Plainsboro, Nora found herself at the center of hospital-wide drinks in the cafeteria on her last day, being given an especially large card, and a large collection given to her in euros for use in her forthcoming grand tour of Europe, presented by Dr. Cuddy herself.

True to her word, Nora had spent a large proportion of her last months at work finding and training a successor, a solid woman with vast administrative experience in another hospital, and prepped her with as much information about Wilson and House as she felt able to share. Which was by no means everything.

Wilson was there at her party, of course, being charming and smiling and personally topping up her glass of champagne at regular intervals, and Nora started to feel a little bit tipsy and a little bit teary to be leaving. It was time to go; she knew she was doing the right thing, but how she wished Jack was still there to be sharing the moment with her.

House sidled into the room, looking for Wilson, and Nora watched Wilson go over to him and apparently persuade him to stay and have a drink. House and Wilson stood together for a little while, drinking and chatting, and standing really quite close together, Nora thought.

After a polite interval, Nora excused herself from the group she was chatting to and made her way over to House and Wilson. Wilson looked at her with the slightly mournful look he'd adopted when talking to her over the last week. House stared at her, his blue eyes sharper and more penetrating than ever.

"Nora, Nora, what am I going to do without you?" Wilson said sorrowfully.

The alcohol and impending departure had loosened Nora's tongue and removed some of her scruples, and she found herself saying to House, "You go easy on Dr. Wilson for a bit, Dr. House, until the new girl settles in."

House grinned rather wolfishly and chose to be outrageous. "I'm always easy when Dr. Wilson is around."

Wilson spluttered on his drink.

Nora smiled, and said in full daring I'm-about-to-retire mode, "Oh, I've known that pretty much ever since you've been working here, Dr. House. I was down in the underground garage one night, you see, when I saw the two of you one time. It was quite a—close encounter, shall we say."

Wilson choked again, and House looked at Nora in disbelief. She looked him dead in the eye, still smiling, still daring, and suddenly House smiled back, one of those rare genuine wide smiles.

"I always knew you looked out for us two," House said. He tipped his head back and drained the rest of his glass in a gulp. Wilson looked from House to Nora, perplexed, and with a slight blush spreading across his cheeks.

"It was in my job description," Nora returned smartly. "All for the good of the department."

Someone called her from across the room; Nora smiled for the last time at House and Wilson together, and walked away.

END

[A/N: thanks very much to all of you who came along for this ride with me, and especially everyone who took the time to review which showed me there was someone else out there apart from me who wanted to read it all! I enjoyed writing and I hope you all enjoyed reading.


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